Anything
by Stacee Phelps
Summary: Missing. Captured. Death. All of these words Aragorn was unprepared for when he received news from his best friend. Now, it's a desperate race against time as the heir of Isildur must fight with everything he has for the prince of Mirkwood's life.
1. Missing

**Title: **

**Anything**

**Author:**

**Stacee Phelps **

**Lord of the Rings belongs to J.R.R. Tolkien and New Line Cinema. I am not being paid for writing this fan fiction. Celebalda belongs to me and Celebdil-Galad, and please ask before using him. Rothinzil is Celeb's, but she lets me use him. Ancú is both of ours as well.**

**Author's Note: **

**This is a birthday fan fic for Celebdil-Galad. It will be late, as her birthday was June 8. Sorry, Celeb! **

**Also, this is basically an Aragorn and Legolas fan fic. THIS IS NOT SLASH!**

**The bad guy in this story will not be revealed until the last chapter/ last part.**

**The memories and thoughts are in italics.**

**This is AU only because of the Mouth of Sauron.**

**SPOILERS**

'**Celeb Gurth-Silver Death'**

'**Deceptions in Blood' and 'What was Left Behind', co-authored with Celebdil-Galad.**

**Summary: **

**Missing. Captured. Death. All of these words Aragorn was unprepared for when he received news from his best friend. Now, it's a desperate race against time as the heir of Isildur must fight with everything he has for the prince of Mirkwood's life. Risking anything and everything, Aragorn is determined to save his friend.**

**Timeline: **

**20 years before FOTR**

**Rating: **

**PG-13 for Violence**

**:0Ж0:**

The sun set, the mounting colors of orange, purple, and yellow showed clearly in the skies. It was a remarkable sight, one that filled a being with instant calm and serenity. However, appearances were often deceiving.

A shivering silence filled the air and the atmosphere around Amon Hen held danger and warning. The despair and helplessness permeate every atom of the milieu, and the trees trembled with the feelings penetrating their sensitive souls.

_Save the immortal one. Save our prince. _The trees' quiet murmurs resonated throughout the wood and their branches shook with fright. _Help the firstborn to live._

The reason for their distress was evident as a staggering form ran awkwardly across the uneven ground. Urgent and evil footsteps followed as the human attempted to keep him and the form he carried up and moving. Recapture would mean death for the two, as the one cradled in the man's arms was near death as it was.

"Please, Legolas, hold on, mellon nín! You have to hold on!" whispered words drifted from the man's lips, and Aragorn, son of Arathorn, finally reached the ruins he sought. Carrying his motionless friend more into the shelter of the forgotten ruins of Amon Hen, the ranger moved to the darkest corner, and gently sat down.

Leaning up against the wall, he nearly halted his breathing as he waited for the sounds of their pursuers to fade away. Instead, a strong voice broke through the coming darkness, causing a shiver to run down Aragorn's spine.

"Forget the elf and the ranger. They will die within days. We must move for Imladris whilst they are unprepared. Move out!" the being who had spoken merely sat on top of his dark mount, staring unblinkingly into the fading light. A slight smile drew across young features, and a knowing nod began.

"You will never be able to save him." A parting sentence and the black clothed being was gone, seemingly swallowed in the gathering gloom.

Sighing in short lived relief, the ranger leaned his head back against the wall, his eyes searching the sky for the Light of Eärendil. Finding the star provided little comfort, and his eyes fell back down to the broken figure held within his strong arms.

Legolas Greenleaf, Prince of the woodland realm of Mirkwood, lay lifeless within his grasp. The fair being's features were drawn tightly in pain, and nearly dried blood gathered at his right temple. Gashes and abrasions covered every part of his body that could be seen, and even those that could not be. His blonde hair was stained with his own blood, and his clothes hung off his tattered frame. The poor elf was so pale it was almost as if the firstborn had already surrendered his soul to the Halls of Mandos.

Gently holding his friend in his arms, Aragorn leaned forward to place his chin on top of Legolas' head. Tears streamed down his tanned face, and sobs began to shake his form.

"I'm sorry, mellon nín. None of this was supposed to happen. I tried everything, but no matter what I did, it wasn't enough."

**:0Ж0:**

The letter had come as any other from Mirkwood. A messenger had brought it, but the suspicious thing was that he did not rest, but gave the letter and then rode off through the gates.

Aragorn and his brothers, Elladan and Elrohir, had merely laughed at the skittish elf's motions, and the young human had taken the letter to the garden to read on his friend's news.

Breaking the seal, he had been horrified to read the contents and the hidden warnings held within.

_Heir of Isildur,_

_You are at fault. The prince of Mirkwood is within our grasp, and no type of rescue plan will succeed. We have left nothing, and no one knows where we have taken him. There is only one way you can save him. Bring yourself forward, Heir of Isildur, unless you want your friend to pay the price for your secrecy._

Racing to his elven father, the human stopped at the entranceway. The author of the note had been very straight forward, and was most likely telling the truth. Since no one seemed distressed, and no word had been sent from Mirkwood, he assumed that no one knew just what to do. Perhaps, his mind concluded, no one realized that the prince was missing.

Turning on his heel, the ranger raced to his room to prepare his traveling pack. Rushing around the room, Aragorn grabbed his herbs and bandages he always kept ready for travel, and then quickly changed his clothing to his ranger garb. Grabbing his sword and quiver from the corner, the human closed the belt around his lean waist.

Looking through his pack for any missing item, he swung the bag onto his back, and turned to face the door. There, his gray eyes were forced to look upon the form of his father, Lord Elrond Peredhil.

Not giving the elf any time to question, Aragorn breezed past Elrond with no explanation. The elven lord followed his foster son to the stables, only beginning to speak when they had reached the stall that held Aragorn's horse, Linteer.

"Ion nín /my son, how fares Prince Legolas?" Elrond's simple questioning caused the young human to spin around in alarm.

"I would not know, for Legolas appears to have been taken." He spit out the words, but only because they held the awful truth of the consequences of a friendship between an elven prince and the heir of Isildur.

Elrond did not seem disturbed by his son's words, but by the pain and anguish they contained. Stepping forward into the stall, he placed a slightly weathered hand upon Aragorn's shoulder.

"Estel, what has happened? Must you fly from Rivendell now?" his words brought neither comfort, nor assistance to the ranger. Pulling away from his father, Aragorn continued to tack his horse and to pile on the traveling gear.

Not answering the elven lord, the human brushed past him again, leading his horse outside of the stables. Elrond followed his distressed son, and grabbed at his arm before he could mount. Turning Aragorn around to face him, the elf stared intently into the all-telling eyes.

"Have they truly threatened Legolas? You have absolute proof?" a fire lit in Aragorn's eyes.

"Yes, I have indisputable proof! These beings have Legolas, and it is because of me!" his last few words came out as a barely breathed whisper. "They have Legolas because someone discovered what I am." The pain and anguish flowed from every word, and the sorrow filled his gaze and face.

Elrond took a step back. "You have no idea who took him." Aragorn's looking to the ground told his father everything. "You cannot leave here alone! Not when you are this distressed, and this being knows your identity!" he grabbed his son, making sure Aragorn understood every word he said.

"Legolas' life is not worth all those that would be lost at your passing." The ranger jerked his arm away as if the elven lord's touch had burned into his skin.

"No, it never should have been Legolas! He never should have been involved in this!" He turned back to his horse, nearly burying his face in the animal's mane. "Who could have found out who I am? I've been careful! No one even uttered who I was. No one suspected." He grew almost quiet, deep in thought, but still did not look to his father.

"I will not leave him to torture and death, not when it is within my power to stop it."

"You do not comprehend your actions! It will not only be Legolas' suffering you must endure, but the people of Middle Earth. This person, this monster, knows who and what you are, what you will do and whom you care most for. He will use all this, and he knows far more about you than you do about him. It would be suicide and a death sentence for the prince if you go in alone and blind!" his patience was running out, and his worry was almost getting the best of him.

"The shadow is rising, Aragorn, son of Arathorn. You must be prepared. If it means that we must sacrifice the prince's life for your safety, then I am afraid it must be done." Elrond's voice began to shake with the remorse and pain he was feeling.

"I love Legolas just as much as you do, Estel, but there is nothing you can do. This is beyond anything we **can** do." Aragorn's shoulders were rock solid with tension, but practically fell away as he sank to the ground next to his horse.

"This was what I feared most, even above becoming king; that my identity and the importance of my life would come before someone else's. I never thought it would be someone I loved." He looked to the heavens, almost as if he were seeking guidance.

"Why do people love me so, Ada? All I ever bring is pain." Elrond slowly sat behind his son, putting his arms around the dúnadan's neck, and placed his head on the back of Aragorn's neck.

"There are sacrifices we all must make, my son. Even the safety of those we love. It is not a choice we are given but something we must go along with, even if the circumstances are beyond what we expect. Right now, we must accept that there is nothing we can do to help Legolas. He is past our aid."

Aragorn looked down from the heavens, a steel look within his gray eyes. "Never."

**:0Ж0:**

The evil horde passed through the woods with no compassion for the wildlife it crushed. All the animals and innocent beings that came across it trembled with uncontained fear and yet sympathy for the elf within its midst.

The pure being was staggering under the ropes it was bound by, and a blindfold kept it from seeing trees and fallen logs in the path. The orcs around it merely laughed as once more, the woodland elf fell to its knees amongst the leaves of the path.

Men followed close behind, laughing and jeering at the sight the mighty warrior presented. Pushing and prodding, the younger race took enjoyment in the pain that sometimes fluttered over the abused and mostly hidden face.

"Not feeling so high and mighty now, are we?" one or two exclaimed in delight as the blonde elf fell. Pushing him fully to the ground, a man stood over the bound being.

"Not much of a fighter, now, huh?" kicking the innocent being in front of him in the ribs, the elf's bound hands could do nothing to stop the abuse. No cry escaped his split lips, and the agony he was experiencing was not displayed. He merely endured the pain.

Legolas Thrandulion only let the exploitation continue because he had no choice in the matter. _Blast it all! _He thought with little emotion. _Why do they want me! _the men and orcs had answered no questions he had yelled in the beginning, and the prince had been unable to see who was the leader of this sad group. Legolas had no idea who his captor was, and why he was wanted.

Finally, a hand stopped the man from continuing, and he bowed away from the elf in fright. "Forgive me, my lord. I was only..." the newcomer cut him off abruptly with a wave of his hand.

"You were simply attempting to kill the elf, were you?" the evilness in the voice caused Legolas to shiver in spite of himself. Never before had he felt such evil intent in a being, and not once had he felt an unstoppable coldness. This... man was nothing like the elf had encountered previous, and that fact startled him more than he cared to admit.

"What am I doing here?" another kick to the side silenced him, but he did receive an answer this time around.

"You, Prince Legolas Greenleaf, are bait. **Expendable** bait. You had better behave yourself, for truly, I do not require you to be alive. I am being generous with you. Do not forget that." The voice answered with such coldness that it cause Legolas to visibly start with confusion and fear. Who was this being? What did he want!

Wanting to comment, but realizing the futility in such an act, Legolas kept silent. He had no ideas to what this being had planned for him, but he considered no reason to antagonize any evil actions that would lead to torture for himself. So, the elf made no remarks.

Smiling, even though the fair being could not see it, his captor knelt beside the bound elf.

"You are smarter than I thought, Your Majesty. Keep your silence, and you may not get punishment as harshly as my men want to give." Legolas kept a stony look on his face, giving no indication as to his feelings on the comment. Inside, he was raging.

"Keep your men tame, and you may not have the wrath of my father over your heads." Legolas could not help responding, but was only smug for a few minutes. Grabbing the elf's long, blonde hair, the evil one yanked Legolas' head close until it seemed the elf's face was right next to his mouth.

"I had not wanted to give you an example so soon, Prince Legolas. But, it appears I have no choice." The being looked to his followers behind him. "Prepare him!" Legolas felt a pang of fear course through his body, and went tense. Feeling ungentle hands upon his body, Legolas was unprepared for the blindfold to be ripped from his eyes.

Pulled unsteadily to his feet, the prince looked around the camp anxiously, and his eyes came upon a human standing not even fifteen feet away from him. The human looked to be only twenty-five years of age, if that. But, this was the evilest looking being the prince had ever come across.

Corruption shone in the young face, and no type of feeling was embedded within the blue eyes. He was donned all in black, and even his hair blended in with his wardrobe. He was tall, and it was plain that he held great power within his form. Now, his eyes met those of the elven prince.

"Bring me the dagger." He spoke, but still held the gaze of Legolas. The prince was dragged over to a nearby stump, the only such kind in the clearing they were camped within. He was forced to kneel near the stump, and he was held down by many strong hands. His struggles went unheeded as the leader came closer.

But, he surprised the elf by turning to the leader of the hill men. "You may do the honors, but make sure he lives." A silent warning passed from the younger man to his follower, and the hill man gulped as he nodded.

"Yes, sir. The elf will live...tonight." The leader nodded, and with a last look to Legolas, turned back to the edge of the camp. The leader of the men turned to Legolas, and the look within his eyes sent a ball of fear throughout the prince's body. Walking closer, he knelt down across from the captured being.

"I will enjoy watching you squirm, Elf." He bit out baneful as he lowered the small dagger. Legolas' wrists were held down firmly against the rough bark of the amputation of a former tree. His left wrist was held down more than his right, and a dawning horror began to overcome Legolas. His struggles ceased for a moment as the realization came to him, but then he fought his captors even more.

"NO!" he shouted indignantly as he threw his body backwards. The men around him laughed, and shoved his chest into the side of the forgotten tree.

"Not feeling so high and mighty now, are we?" they jeered at seeing the elf's distress. Legolas kept fighting, but knew what they were planning. _Oh, Elbereth, no! Not this! Please, oh, gracious Valar, not this! _The prince cried out in his mind, and closed his eyes against the inevitable.

However, a man grabbed his head, and held it back against his chest. "No, Elfy, you're gonna watch every minute of it!" So, Legolas was forced to watch with fear as the dagger was carefully placed over the center of his left wrist.

"Don't want im to bleed to death yet." Was the men's explanation as to the placement of the knife's blade. Very slowly, the dagger touched Legolas' skin above his wrist bone. His heart thudding with uncontained fear, the elf tensely waited for the knife to slide into his arm.

Looking to the elf's face, the leader of the men smiled, and slowly pushed the dagger into the wrist to the hilt. Legolas' eyes closed with the torment, and his breathing increased as he attempted to withhold the cries of pain his body so desperately wanted to let loose.

The leader merely grinned more as he savored in the elf's pain. Twisting the blade slightly, the man grabbed Legolas' upper arm. He didn't look to his men or Legolas, but wordlessly began to push the knife up the archer's arm. Legolas arched in silent agony in his captors' arms, and his breathing labored even more in his distress. Moving his eyes to Gil-Estel high in the sky, he begged for help.

_Please, help me! _He thought as he felt the knife slide all the way to stop at his elbow. Even in his pain-filled state, the elven archer knew what they were doing. Not only were the men injuring him physically, but also, without the use of his left arm, Legolas would be unable to continue as one of the best archers in Middle Earth. These men knew what would hurt him most, and they were using every single bit they could to wound him in the flesh and within the recesses of his mind.

Finally, the blade touched the bones of his elbow, and Legolas could hold it in no longer. Howling his agony, the prince arched even more as it seemed the blade was attempting to cut through the thick bones of his arm. Hearing the evil laughter around him, Legolas gave no notice to their enjoyment in his pain. Right now, he fought not to let another cry sound.

Twisting around so that he could somewhat control his pain, he discovered something. The bonds around his left wrist were gone, and the leader seemed to be enjoying himself a little too much. His grasp was becoming even more lax as he joined in his men's jovial laughs. Looking around subtlety, Legolas found that the men around him had started to slap hands and shoulders, and none were paying much attention to the actual elf. They were only taking pleasure in his torture.

Now, he had a plan. A one time chance that he could not ruin. Renewing his struggles so he appeared desperate, he gave a real cry as the leader pulled the blade viciously from his arm. Sagging for a moment, he gave a last glance around to get his bearings. This was it!

Tensing his muscles, Legolas threw himself backward into the man holding him. The man gave a loud "oof!" and released the elf. Legolas vaulted to his feet, and tore his arm away from the leader. Looking around to the men rushing at him, the elf looked upwards, but saw no low branches hanging down near him.

Turning away from the men, Legolas took off towards the other edge of the camp, where he knew the trail led to the snowy mountain paths of Caradhras.

Nearly reaching the other side, the elf was not prepared as a figure suddenly leapt from the darkness and caught the prince in a flying tackle. Landing hard on the ground, Legolas struggled valiantly with his assailant. But, he was too late.

The men came up to the two fighters at that moment, and grabbed the elf from all sides. Twisting his arms behind his back, the leader of the men approached the recaptured elf. "You will pay for that one, Elfy." But, a cold voice stopped him.

"No, he was not the one that allowed a gap to form for his escape." All slowly turned to see the black form approach. It had been his own guard that had tackled Legolas, and now, the guard stood next to his master. He glared at the man with a look close to pity.

"The elf will not be unbound from this moment forth. He is too have a guard at all times, and the next man that allows him to escape will answer to me." The black figure looked to the leader of the men. "Am I understood?"

The man could only nod his cognition, but then turned to his own men. "You heard!" he then walked right to the elf and glared at him with all the hatred and contempt he could muster.

"You will pay, Elf. Of that, you can be sure." With those last words, his fist came up, and crashed upon Legolas' temple.

The elf last saw his face, and then all went black.

**:0Ж0:**

Aragorn had set out from Rivendell as soon as he was done talking with his father, and right now he had no idea where to go. He sat atop his mount next to the river Bruinen, and was contemplating his destination. Legolas' captor had given no clues, no indication as to where his elven friend was being held, and so the young human had no idea where to look.

Kicking his horse slightly, the dúnadan decided to head for his friend's home of Mirkwood.

**:0Ж0:**

"I'm telling you, ranger! The prince is with his father at the palace. Prince Legolas is in no danger!" Aragorn's frustration was mounting as he faced down Legolas' friend.

"Listen to me, Celebalda. I would not make false claims such as this unless I was sure. Legolas is gone! Let me talk to Thranduil!" the fair haired elf's anger grew at the human's insistence and the casual use of his lord's name. This ranger had just intruded upon the woods and was now demanding to see the king about tidings that any elf in Mirkwood would have known about once it had occurred. This upstart was implying that the Mirkwood guard was not doing their job correctly!

"You, human, are treading on a very thin line! If you do not..."

"Estel! What are you doing here?" a dark haired elf had just dropped out of the trees, having heard the raised voices.

"Thank the Valar! Rothinzil, someone has taken Legolas!" Aragorn's worried words brought Rothinzil's good mood to an abrupt halt. The ranger rushed past the captain of the guard in Mirkwood, and ran to Legolas' oldest friend. "Please, Roth. I have no idea where to go next. Someone has taken Legolas because they found out who I am. They are trying to use him against me! They will kill him unless I act quickly."

Rothinzil held up a hand to halt the ramblings of the ranger, and put a reassuring hand upon Aragorn's shoulder. "You are mistaken, young one, for Prince Legolas is at the palace with his father." Aragorn's frustration was evident.

"Why does no one believe my words!" here, he thrust the letter he received from Legolas' captors to Rothinzil, and waited for the trained eyes to read the words. He could tell his words came back full force to the elf's mind as he read the threatening letter.

Looking back up to Aragorn, the warrior almost could not form words. "But, Estel, this cannot be true! I just came from the palace, and Legolas was there! I speak the truth!" Aragorn's face paled, and he looked to Celebalda for confirmation. The fair haired elf merely nodded.

Not bothering to take the letter back from Rothinzil, the ranger walked quickly back to his horse, mounting quicker than either elf could follow. Turning back to Rothinzil and Celebalda, his expression looked grim.

"Then this means that letter was sent before they had captured Legolas. Right now, it matters not, for they have him now." Spurring his horse onward, he raced past the two elves to the palace of King Thranduil, son of Orophor.

**:0Ж0:**

Stopping his horse within the courtyard of the mighty King Thranduil, Aragorn dismounted quickly, letting his horse find its way to the stables. Racing up the courtyard steps to the entrance hall, Aragorn breezed past the surprised elves that looked to him, and walked straight to the throne room of Thranduil.

Readying himself for the explosion that was bound to accompany his entrance, Aragorn brushed past the guards on the outside of the doors, and could immediately see that he had interrupted a state meeting.

The looks of surprise went past his noticing, and his eyes locked with those of King Thranduil. From the connection, the king could finally see what had happened to his son. As exclamations erupted around them, Aragorn could vaguely feel the guards behind him grab his upper arms in a steely grasp. He also noticed the way Thranduil sagged in his seat.

"Aran nín /my king," he addressed loudly, standing perfectly still in the guards' presence. "I have come to you with ill tidings. Your son, the crown prince of Mirkwood, has been taken by an unknown enemy." The room went silent, and Thranduil stood.

"When did this occur, young ranger?" he asked, barely able to control his voice. He may have been in the atmosphere of his counselors and advisors, but that did not mean he would not allow the father in him to come out when his son was in danger.

Aragorn looked uncomfortable for a moment. "I'm not sure, Your Highness, but I received a letter from Legolas' captors, and I also talked with Captain Rothinzil of one of the regiments. He told me that Prince Legolas was just seen here at the palace." Thranduil's face paled somewhat, but he regained his composure quickly.

"Strider, my son received a letter telling of your capture and he raced from here a total of three days ago. He went after you." Now, it was Aragorn that looked sick, and he raised a hand to his forehead, mentally cursing himself.

His questions had finally been answered. No wonder no one from Mirkwood had sent word! No one suspected that Legolas had been the one taken, not Aragorn.

Aragorn turned away from the king, and rested his hands upon his hips. He sighed quietly.

"Forgive me, my lord, for I was not aware that these designs were in place. I received word from an unknown source that revealed to me that Prince Legolas was taken to lure me out of hiding. His captors want me." With these words, he glanced back at the king.

"Did Legolas leave the letter behind? Did it say where he was supposed to meet the captors?" Thranduil stepped down from the dais where his throne was located and stepped down to stand next to Aragorn. Placing a reassuring hand upon the ranger's shoulder, Thranduil sighed.

"I know not whether Legolas took the letter, but if he did not, I suspect he left it in his room. You have my permission to look." Aragorn nodded, and began to walk towards the door. Thranduil's tightening hand on his shoulder stopped any more movement.

"Estel, do not blame yourself. My son will survive this, and I am glad that you are not in any danger. If both of you were taken, I'm not sure what would happen." The king's sincere gaze surprised the human. Before, Thranduil had always seemed to despise the ranger, but now it appeared that the initial emotions had been a defense mechanism. The king had only feared for his only child.

"Be careful, Estel. If anything were to happen to you, that would cause more harm to my son than any deed done to him by his captors." Aragorn stared the king straight in the eyes. The blue orbs that reminded him so much of Legolas'...

There was a wish, though, shining through to the ranger. _Save my son. _The plea was evident, and Aragorn placed a comforting hand on Thranduil's shoulder, ignoring the looks and gasps that echoed throughout the room.

"I will do everything within my power to bring Legolas back to you, my lord. He will be fine." Thranduil smiled sadly.

"The fine part is the one that scares me, peneth er /young one/. I remember the last time you and Legolas came back here fine." A small smile fluttered across the man's face, but it quickly faded.

"I will find him." He then turned swiftly, and headed right for the royal chambers of Legolas Greenleaf.

**:0Ж0:**

"I'm so sick and tired of listening to a little man that is half my age!" a displeased voice whispered softly to his comrades. "I want to go back to the hills. My daughter's done and had her baby right now, and I want to see my grandchild."

"Shush, Ceorl!" the leader hissed, finally fed up with his men's complaining. "I'm just as tired of this job as you are, but what can we do? Sauron himself could have ordered us to help this guy, and we don't know! All I know is that we had better finish this job and kill the heir, or else it will be us that is just as bad off as the elf!" the men settled down with only a few muttered complaints, but went on about their business around the camp. Finally, it was just the leader still sitting at the fire.

"You did very well talking your men down." The leader known only as Dúnhere jumped to his feet in surprise. Behind him, the man that came from Mordor smirked.

"You showed wisdom. For, if you allow your men to desert, it will come out of your hide." Dúnhere swallowed noticeably, and nodded.

"Yes, my lord." The younger man walked over to sit on the other edge of the campfire.

"It won't be long now. The heir of Isildur isn't ignorant. He will first go to Mirkwood, and discover that his friend hasn't been missing that long. No, he will find the letter and come right to us." Dúnhere sat down, somewhat confused, but too scared to say anything. The man from Mordor acknowledged, and smiled.

"Go ahead and ask. I will not punish for questions." Dúnhere bowed his head to show he was no threat.

"My lord, I thought we were to move again at first light. How will the heir know where we will be?" the evil man's sinister smile grew.

"We will just have to leave something to show him what way we're going."

**:0Ж0:**

_**Prince Legolas,**_

**_This is no trivial letter. The message it holds is of greatest importance. I am a barkeep of the town of Bree, and I know of your friend, Strider. We spoke, and as I recalled having seen you with him before, I thought that you should know._**

_**Around a fortnight ago, men broke into my tavern, and violently took Strider. I have not heard from him since. I'm sorry that I had not informed you earlier, and for as much as I know, he could be with you as you read this. I thought it imperative that I send this as soon as I could.**_

_**Again, I apologize for my tardiness in sending this.**_

_**Signed,**_

_**Proprietor of the Prancing Pony**_

_Legolas looked up at the messenger before him, and grabbed the young one's arm._

_"Do you know the contents of this letter?" the young man nodded silently, and looked to the elf with an expression close to fear. "Has Strider truly been taken captive?" again, only a nod was given._

_Legolas turned from the human, and looked worriedly to the sky. Was this letter telling him of his friend? Glancing back to the young human, Legolas gently padded his shoulder._

_"Thank you for bringing me this news. You may go." With a manner of relief, the human turned and ran to his horse. Legolas paid little more attention to the messenger, but quickly sped to his father's study._

_Knocking forcefully, Legolas waited for his father's acknowledgment, and then walked into the darkened room._

_"Adar father, I need your advice." He then showed the letter to Thranduil, and sat down across from the king at his desk. "Please, I don't know what to do. I don't know if the letter is authentic." The king looked to his only child, and sat back, contemplating the words within the note._

_"I do not know what you want to hear from me, ion nín my son ." Legolas shot to his feet, and began to pace the room._

_"Ada, what if I do not act? I know I must, even though it be fake. Strider's life may hang in the balance. I will not sacrifice the time needed to save him by thinking through all the what ifs. The only one I want to think about is, What if the letter speaks true? My best friend's life is in danger! I know that whether the letter be true or false." He moved to the front of his father's desk, looking Thranduil full in the face._

_"Ada, may I have your blessing to pursue this?" the king looked to his son, and realized he could not deny this to his only child. Sighing inwardly in resignation, he nodded._

_"Go, and bring Strider back safely." Legolas grinned, and strode to stand next to his father's chair. Putting a hand on Thranduil's shoulder, he squeezed affectionately._

_"Hannon lle, Adar Thank you, Father ." He then took the note from his father's grasp, and hurried from the room. He needed to prepare._

Waking slowly from his memories, Legolas barely held in a groan. His arm throbbed like nothing else he could remember, and he could still feel the blood gently oozing down his forearm. He was bound but the blindfold was still off. Moving around as minimally as possible, Legolas looked around the camp.

The hill men appeared to be dismantling their camp, and did not even look in his direction. It seemed as if the group was moving yet again.

_Four days. Four of the longest days of my life. _His thoughts turned to his best friend, and a sickening feeling embedded itself back into his stomach. Aragorn was still in danger, he just knew it. What he feared was that he knew what the leader had meant by bait. These men were using him against his best friend.

_But, why? _Looking up as feet crashed near his head, the prince of Mirkwood struggled to not look startled. Seeing Dúnhere, Legolas tried to remain and not scoot away.

The leader of the hill men sneered down at the captive elf, and bent over to yank Legolas to his feet. Swaying from loss of blood, the wood-elf's eyes opened and closed with dizziness. Moving awkwardly after being pushed by the man, Legolas attempted to watch where they were headed.

Hearing heavy footsteps, the prince was surprised beyond reason when he came face to face with one of the largest orcs he had ever seen. Nearly jumping back, Legolas was grabbed and held up right in the foul being's face.

It sniffed him coldly, and then its rubbery lips drew back into a disgusted grimace. "You had better watch it, Elf. Our master has given us leave to tend to you if you chose not to behave." It leaned closer, evil amusement shining in its face. "My men are looking forward to it, Elfy."

Legolas shied away as much as he could, but the strong grasp of the orc leader's hand in his tunic and the arm of the hill man kept him in place. The blonde elf then wanted to make sure to tell these things that he was not intimidated.

"They'll just have to wait, now won't they?" he managed out in a confident tone. The fist that impacted with his left ribs was no surprise, but Legolas still doubled over coughing. The orc grabbed the back of his hair, and forced the elf prince to look him fully in the face.

"The master gave me permission to discipline you, Elfy. You and I will have a fun time. But," at this, he began to look around with a displeased frown. "We are leaving now." He looked back to Legolas.

"You just wait until we camp."

**:0Ж0:**

Legolas groaned silently with untold agony, and he moved very, very cautiously. His whole body ached and throbbed, and he half wished his captors would chop off his left arm.

Looking around the heavily wooded area he was being held in, he quietly thanked the Valar for having not been blindfolded on the way to their new camping stop. Legolas now knew where he was, and understood where his captors planned on taking him.

As of now, the group was bordering the dwarven mines of Moria, located just southwest of Mirkwood. The outfit had trekked through the Misty Mountains, and had now arrived at the dwarven haven. But, the elven prince had noticed quite early that the path they were taking would take them far from Caras Galadon, the elven city home to the Lady Galadriel and Lord Celeborn. The orcs and men were hoping that by straying from the woods of Lórien, the wise Lady of the Wood would not take notice of their company.

Not being blindfolded, Legolas was free to acknowledge these facts. However, he still was unbelieving to where he knew his captors were taking him.

After the Mines of Moria, Legolas was certain that the group would head for Caradhras, for a troupe filled with orcs and hill men would not be welcome in any place occupied by the second people of Middle Earth. Plus, this group was unusually secretive, only fixated on one goal. To keep the capture of the elf secret.

So, with this in mind, Legolas could only think of one place far enough that a company with orcs, hill men, and a captured elf could go. The ruins of Tharbad. It was the only sensible place for these servants of Mordor to take their captive bait. Amon Sûl was too close to Rivendell, and all the other places were heavily populated with human settlements. Tharbad was the only place that no one could report to having seen the evil group.

But, even knowing where he was being taken was no comfort to the captive prince.

Groaning again with the agony awoken once more in his body, the elf closed his eyes against the torment in his being, and his mind.

_Why am I bait? Why can't any of them give me a straight answer! _No answers were given to his struggling mind, and Legolas sighed as he leaned his head back against the ground. _Does anyone even know I'm captured?_

**:0Ж0:**

Leaning over his horse's haunches, Aragorn's mind was a flurry of thought and anger. They had used Aragorn against his best friend, knowing the elven prince would go after the human. The ones that had captured Legolas were clever, but not clever enough.

_Bree, huh? I wonder if they left that in there on purpose! And, the Prancing Pony? I probably have to talk to the barkeep for that._

Now, the young ranger was on his way to the human town of Bree. If Legolas' captors wanted to meet Aragorn there, then the human was bound to get there as fast as he could push his horse to go. He only wished that he had known they were heading to Bree so that he would not have gone in completely the other direction!

Hearing his horse's labored breathing, Aragorn allowed the pace to slow. He realized that they had been traveling hard, and were nearly to the Old Forest Road and out of Mirkwood. But, now that the sounds of the pounding hooves had faded, Aragorn's thoughts became more centered.

Realizing that the kidnappers had planned on Aragorn going to Mirkwood, they had used the time it had taken him to get to the woodland realm to their advantage. They only had a three or four day head start on the ranger, but it was enough. Enough to get out of Mirkwood before anyone realized, and enough time for a lead.

Another thought intruded on his mind. The abductors had known to use Aragorn to lure Legolas away from the palace and Mirkwood. Stopping his horse at a small glen, Aragorn slid from its back, thinking the whole time.

If they had known to use Legolas against him, and vice versa, then maybe the two friends had been spied upon.

Slipping down to the ground in his shock, the young human could only let his jaw drop. How had anyone known! The only places it was true, common knowledge that Aragorn and Legolas were friends, was elven. If one of the elves had turned dark and told...

But, Aragorn banished those thoughts from his mind. No elf would give another elf to enemies willingly. Would they?

Rubbing a hand across his eyes, Aragorn felt tears stab at his center. His best friend was being used against him. What was the use of even having a best friend, if evil people out wanting to kill you only used them in plots?

The answer was obvious. He loved Legolas like the elf was one of his brothers. By Elbereth, the elven prince was probably closer to Aragorn than either Elladan or Elrohir! And, he knew Legolas had felt the same despair and confusion at more than one time or another when Aragorn's life was in danger. It was still hard to accept that Legolas' life was only in danger this time because of Aragorn.

Feeling helplessness wash over him, the ranger could only sit still for a time. He knew, no matter what, that Legolas would always be his best friend. The elf, hopefully, would realize that this was no reason to end their friendship, and remain friends with the ranger. No, what Aragorn feared was more intangible.

He was scared that Legolas would be too afraid to be near him. What if Legolas was so effected by this incident that he was too frightened to be around Aragorn alone or otherwise?

Leaning his head back so he could look at the cloudy sky, the ranger could feel sobs gather within him. He never wanted Legolas to be scared around him, and he had never thought that something like this would ever happen. With Thranduil, Elrond, the twins, even Glorfindel, but never had he thought Legolas would be used against **_him_**.

Taking a minute to gather his composure, Aragorn wiped away the tears that had fallen, and moved to stand next to his horse.

Thinking of Legolas was becoming difficult, but a last thought intruded upon his mind that made him stagger. What would the prince's captors do to him? He was only needed as bait, and there wasn't even a reason to keep Legolas alive. There was no way Aragorn knew that they even had the elven prince.

Cursing in dwarvish and elvish, Aragorn swung angrily onto his horse. Reining the animal around, Aragorn urged his horse to continue onwards towards Bree.

He knew not the what ifs or what kinds of danger his closest friend was in, but he was set and determined to rescue Legolas at any and all costs.

**:0Ж0:**

The orc leader looked to his master, and could not help but growl. "When can I take a lesson with the elf, huh? I have a few ideas that won't kill him." Stepping closer, for it knew the evil being next to him wouldn't be bothered by its insistence. "Please, Master?" it practically pleaded with the human in front of it.

The leader glared at it from the corner of his eye, but said nothing. Finally, he nodded, but put a restraining hand on the arm of his soldier. "Don't kill the elf. Do you understand me? We need him alive for now."

The leader of the orcs eagerly nodded, and it quickly stepped away from the dangerous human. It didn't want to take the chance that it had ticked off the younger being.

Slowing its pace as it got to his men, it looked pointedly at the wearied elf on the ground. Stopping, its sinister smile sending shivers down the elf's back, it spoke to his men.

"Grab the elf!" the orcs nearest started to howl and scream their approval and eagerness, and looked to the bound elf lying behind them. Two closest ran over and ripped the bonds around Legolas' ankles, and then dragged the poor elf to his feet.

Legolas valiantly struggled as the orcs' claws dug into his arms, injuring his left one even more. He fought to get away, but then his eyes came to see the rope being thrown over one of the lower branches of a particular tree.

The tree in itself looked evil, for it had barbed sticks protruded from the bark and the trunk, and the branches looked dead but strong. Pines littered the ground, and the branches drooped towards the earth, creating an eerie look about the place. The branch in which the rope had been thrown over appeared the only straight limb on the strange looking tree.

Legolas looked around wildly, but seeing more of the evil spawn coming closer, he bucked, and struggled with all the strength he could muster. Unfortunately for the pure being, no amount of force could dislodge him from his captors' grasp.

Being dragged so he was standing right next to the length of rope, Legolas could not understand what the orcs was going to do to him.

Still struggling, Legolas did not make it easy as the orcs twisted his bound arms and wrapped the end of the rope around his wrists. Tying a knot at the end, the orcs on the other side of the rope pulled the line until the prince's arms were suspended above his head. Fastening the other end of the cord around the trunk of the tree, the orcs stepped back for a moment, laughing.

Legolas strove to get loose of the bonds, but the orcs' knots only tightened the more he fought. Finally settling down enough to just stand there, he looked the Mordor spawn over as they laughed and jeered at him from all sides.

Seeing the orc leader motion to one of its men, Legolas stiffened as he saw the thick chain appear in its enormous claws. Mounting dread filled his stomach, and a nervous sweat began on his forehead.

All around the area, orcs started to light small fires in a circle so that the wooded area was filled with flickering flames. From behind, the hill men filed in and joined the orcs in their laughter.

Closing his eyes to prepare himself against the inevitable beating ahead, Legolas' thoughts were filled with confusion and apprehension. _Why would any living being honestly enjoy another's suffering? What have they to gain by my pain?_

Ignoring the snide remarks of his captors, he took consolation in one fact: At least it was he and not Aragorn. If this was the dúnadan, Legolas was sure he would be in even greater pain having to watch the torment of his dearest friend. _Please, mellon nín /my friend, be safe for once._

Opening his blue eyes to look around at the gathered crowd, Legolas fixed his eyes straight ahead as the leader of the orcs slowly approached.

Smiling in a cruel, calculating way, the orc wrapped the chain three times around each of its hands hand, putting one up next to Legolas' fair face.

"This will be fun, Elfy. Just wait and see." It then lowered its fist, and seemed to be considering where to strike first. Then, the smile grew. Looking right into Legolas' expressive eyes, the orcs struck with its right fist into the left side of the elf.

Legolas and the orc leader could hear the sounds of ribs breaking, and the orc laughed as the elven prince let loose a gasp. Shuddering from the blow, he involuntarily tried to shrug to his left side, but his arms over his head prevented very much movement.

The orc gestured to the elf as if hurting the being was easy, and then turned back to its prisoner. Its smile grew even more, and then blow after blow commenced. Blows rained down on the unprotected abdomen of the elf, and then up to the chest area and back.

When the orc finally paused for a moment, it was breathing heavily, but was overjoyed. The elf still hadn't cried out in pain. This was about to get even better.

Legolas was also breathing heavily, but he was trying desperately not to cry out. He could feel wave after wave of agony wash over him, and every single rib that felt broken and/ or cracked. The organs inside his stomach sent out distress signals, and he knew his collarbone was compromised as well. Legolas stood up as straight as he could to take off the pressure, but he knew he had to have internal bleeding from the pain he was experiencing.

While straightening, the orc leader could identify what the elf was doing, and took advantage of Legolas' position. Striking Legolas near the hip, the orc felt pleasure at hearing a bone snap and the elf's surprised cry of anguish.

Watching the elf sag, the orc joined in with his men and most of the hill men in their laughter at the elf's pain. This was the orcs' first time truly torturing a member of the firstborn, and they were enjoying the spectacle.

Also hearing the hipbone snap, Legolas did not care for once as his suffering cry was released. He could only concentrate on the endless currents of pain rushing through his body. Feeling himself dropping as well as the growing pressure on his chest, Legolas started to see black dots on the edge of his vision. Beginning to pass out, the prince could not help sighing in relief as his consciousness attempted to flee.

But, his release was long in coming, for all of a sudden, a black water flask was shoved into his face, and before Legolas fully realized what was happening, a watery substance ran down his throat. Gagging and coughing, Legolas' chin was held up as the toxin ran down into his stomach.

Hearing laughing around him, Legolas' head was dropped, and he was left to wonder what it was he had been forced to swallow. After a moment, the orc leader's angry face swam into view.

"I won't have you pass out until we're done with you, elf." Legolas almost sobbed at the implication of more pain, but stopped himself in time. He would not give these foul creatures any more satisfaction than he already had.

The orc leader then walked around the elf, seemingly examining him, as a buyer would survey a product. It seemed that the orc leader was considering something.

Stopping behind the elf, Legolas could hear as the orc shook the chain from around his fists. Detecting the sound of chain hitting the ground, the fair being wondered what the foul thing was up too.

All of a sudden, the sound of an object flying through the air ended with an impromptu whack upon the elf's back. Arching silently against the unexpected pain, Legolas' eyes closed as his body swung back to his standing position.

So, the orc leader intended to break him with whipping his back, huh? Well, Legolas decided, I won't give him the gratification. Enduring the whipping for a time, Legolas still could not help crying out as the chain began to catch on his back, and then being ripped away.

Already, Legolas could feel the welts rising on his skin.

After a while, blood ran down the elf's normally flawless back as the chain hit some places repeatedly. Legolas had taken only as much as his elven body could take, and even exceeded what he thought was its limit, but even an elven warrior could only take so much.

Crying out now at every strike, the elf screamed as the chain inched around his sides, catching his injured ribs. From his hanging position, the chain was having an easier time wounding parts of his body, and the elf certainly was feeling the pain. Now, even though the toxin was in his blood, Legolas could feel himself loosing consciousness.

And yet, the blows still fell.

All of a sudden, an authoritative voice rang out above the laughing of the orcs and hill men.

"HALT!" the orc leader's smile fell and silence ensued among the crowd. Now, looking at the elf body in front of it, the orc leader feared it had ended up killing Legolas against the orders of its master. Right now, only the telltale signs of breathing showed that the prince was still alive.

Through the crowd came a cloaked figure and the leader from Mordor approached the leader of the spawn.

Staring down the leader, the human's coldness was even more intimidating than any of his anger. Looking down to the ground, the orc dropped the chain, and shuffled to stand in front of the beaten elf. Not glancing upward, the orc waited for its leader's words.

Keeping silent for a moment, the human spoke. "I believe I expressly said that the elf was not to be killed." Giving a terse glance over the motionless form of the elf, the leader looked back to the orc, but then spoke to them all.

"I do not want the elf killed as of yet. When I do, I will take care of the matter myself." Making sure they call understood, his mouth formed a disgusted frown. "Dúnhere, you stay. Everyone else had better leave." As he finished, the orcs and hill men fled. The orc leader looked around, and realizing that it would get its punishment later, shuffled off with its men.

Dúnhere stayed where he was until all the others had left, and then walked over to stand next to his leader. Looking the elf over, he could not help but recoil at the state the fair being was in.

The younger man also looked to the elf, and his disapproval was evident. Not second-guessing himself in front of the leader of the hill men, the leader from Mordor moved to stand in front of the elf.

Legolas tiredly looked up at the man from Mordor, but did not say anything. He was too wearied, and he knew he was in a critical state.

Only looking to the leader for a moment, Legolas fixated his gaze to the ground. Showing plainly that he was waiting for the young being to talk, the elf was desperately attempting to hide his pain from his captor.

The leader only waited a little more, but then slowly began to talk. "I'm guessing by now you know why you are with us." The sentence was only a statement, not really demanding any type of response.

Legolas took a breath, but did reply. "I know who you want to come after me, but I do not know why you want my friend." The leader smiled.

"Ah, then he hasn't told you who he is?" Legolas looked up, his puzzlement evident. The leader continued.

"The Heir of Isildur. That is the why. I want to be able to deliver the living Heir of Isildur to my master." The elf's horror was easily identifiable, and his breathing quickened.

This man wanted Aragorn because he was a descendant of Isildur? Then, the real horror dawned. _He found out! He discovered that Aragorn's the heir!_

The leader laughed. "Yes, the Heir of Isildur. Don't you feel special, Elf?" Legolas did not respond for several seconds, in case the human was bluffing. He was considering what he **could** say that wouldn't give Aragorn away just in case, but the leader beat him to it.

"Aragorn, son of Arathorn. Of course he'd be taken in by the elves, considering he is of the line of Elros Tar-Minyatur. It was a surprise when I found that for sixty years, the key to the salvation of the free peoples of Middle Earth was living among the elves." The leader shook his head, but then looked to Legolas. "I hope Aragorn doesn't take too long, for I am not too sure I want to keep the orcs' blood lust at bay." He then laughed, and looked to Dúnhere.

"Cut him down." The leader of the hill men did not acknowledge the younger man, but removed a dagger from his side, and swiftly cut the bonds holding the wounded elf in the air.

Released, Legolas crashed to the ground, landing heavily on his stomach. Curling into himself as much as he could, he still fought to hide his pain.

"Why haven't you gone to Sauron? What have you to prove by killing the Heir of Isildur?" the leader didn't look down to the elf, but only looked to Dúnhere with an amused look on his face.

"It would be suicide to go to Lord Sauron without absolute proof, such as Aragorn's head, and everything. Anyone who could kill the Heir of Isildur would be considered the best in Mordor. I bring in the body of the heir, and no one would dispute me again." Legolas struggled away from the image of this man dragging his friend's body through Mordor, and realized that this man's hatred of Aragorn and the Heir of Isildur stemmed from something else.

The leader, seeing that he had wounded the elf, smiled and turned to leave. But, Legolas' haunted voice stopped him for a moment. "Why are you doing this to me? What has he done?" the leader's happiness faded, and a steel look came to his face.

Turning back to the elf, he glared down at Legolas, and spoke one simple sentence.

"He was born."

**:0Ж0:**

Aragorn pushed his horse as far as the animal could go the first day, anxious to reach Bree as fast as was possible. He had felt some fleeting emotions of pain, those of which he could only guess as Legolas'. He was so afraid for his friend at this point, and was eager to push the horse as far as they could go.

Finally, the two reached the bottom slopes of the Misty Mountains as the sun set. The horse and its rider had been traveling with only a few stops through the whole day, and had gone over fifty miles.

The poor horse was exhausted, and nearly collapsed as Aragorn allowed stopping for the night. He recognized the need for rest, but was still reluctant to stop. He feared for his elven friend greatly, and hoped that he would be able to reach Bree in a week's time.

Dismounting, he took his saddle from the horse, and gently rubbed the animal's sweating back. Taking off the bridle and then setting those aside, Aragorn allowed for his mare to graze, knowing that the mount would return when called. She was an elven horse, after all.

"I'm sorry, Linteer, but you know how worried I am for Legolas." The horse gently nudged her master as a sign that she held no ill feelings, and then wandered off for the good grass.

Watching her go, Aragorn searched the land for firewood, and gathered some for a small fire. Carrying it over, he laid it down and started a fire for his dinner. Having only some berries and cakes, Aragorn kept himself warm against the chill of the night, and stretched out.

Looking to the sky, he took out his pipe, and worriedly began to smoke some of the pipeweed he had stored among his pack. Taking a puff, he watched the clear heavens for a sign.

_Please, oh, Mighty Valar. You returned me from the dead, but that never would have happened without Legolas. Please, watch over him and allow him to remain with me. Please. _Closing his eyes, he expanded his senses around him, and rested.

**:0Ж0:**

Unbeknownst to Aragorn, figures were wandering the Misty Mountains, watching for the lonely ranger. They scoured the land, waiting for any sign of the human heading for the human settlement of Bree. The hill men had strict orders to alert their leader to the comings of the young human.

Now, the hill men had spotted their quarry on the slopes of the mountain. Using their calling signs, they signaled to one another until the sign got to the camp of the leader from Mordor where Legolas was being kept.

Listening, Dúnhere realized the call, and rushed to the tent holding the leader of the group. Waiting at the entrance, he waited for acknowledgment, but then ran in.

"The men have located the ranger." The leader casually looked up to Dúnhere, and then nodded.

"Very well. Tell your men to bring him here, but don't kill him. I get that pleasure myself." The leader of the hill men nodded, and then rushed from the tent. Running to the edge of their camp, he signaled the approval of the capture, and then decided to visit the elf.

Walking over to where the orcs and humans had left the fair being, Dúnhere saw the bound elf unconscious near the tree. The bleeding from his back had stopped, but the human recognized the swelling of his stomach and sides, and knew for a fact that the elf was set to have internal bleeding.

Standing over the elf, he knelt down beside Legolas, and whispered in his ear, "This will all be over soon, elf. Your friend will be here soon, and then we'll kill the both of ya." Legolas remained motionless, and the human could tell that the elf was really out of it.

Smiling, he just grinned, and then stood. "The ranger had better be worth all of this."

**:0Ж0:**

When the men got the signal from camp, the headman smiled ruthlessly. Finally, they would get to act. Motioning over to his quietest man, the hill man watched as the skilled human scaled down the tree the ranger was under. Seeing the dúnadan's sword, bow, and quiver, the headman knew they had to get the weapons away from the ranger.

The quietest man slipped down until he was sitting just over the ranger. Positioning himself so he could hang over the younger man, he readied himself to grab the other warrior's weapons.

Aragorn, unknown to the hill men, already knew the presence of the man in the tree. Tightening his grip on his pipe, the ranger waited until the other man's legs suspended him down, and latched onto the branch to act.

Grabbing the man's arms and yanking, the older man crashed heavily to the ground, landing on a rock. Seeing that man down for the count, Aragorn lunged for his sword and unsheathed the dangerous steel.

Spinning around, looking for any men who were thinking of ambushing him, Aragorn quieted his breathing so he could listen. Not hearing anything for the moment, Aragorn still did not relax his guard.

Not hearing until the last moment, the young ranger spun around too late. The dagger embedded itself up to the hilt in his shoulder, causing the nerves in his right hand to drop his sword. Clanging to the ground, the metal hit a rock and lie still.

Aragorn grabbed for his shoulder, but then went for his weapon with his left hand. He wasn't as good with his blade with his left hand, but he wasn't going to let these men overpower him easily.

Seeing men rush at him from the brush, Aragorn prepared himself for the onslaught. Holding himself high, he waited as the men came closer.

But, he was unsuspecting to the men from behind until he heard their rapid footsteps nearly right next to him. Turning slowly, Aragorn was spun around as a club came into contact with his left temple.

Unable to move, the ranger just laid on the ground, dazed. Looking up, he watched as his abductors looked around the camp, grabbing his weapons and supplies, and then finally looking to him.

"So, the poor bastard's still awake, huh?" the headman growled. Giving a slight nod to the man nearest the fallen ranger, the hill man kicked Aragorn full in the face, dropping the dúnadan into immediate oblivion.

**:0Ж0:**


	2. Finding Him

**:0Ж0:**

Legolas did not awake for many hours, his exhausted and agonized body taking as much rest as it was given. When the elf finally awoke, he was confused as to why the orcs and hill men had left him alone so long. Looking up to the sunny sky barely shining through the wooded area, Legolas understood why.

Orcs hated the daytime. The only ones known to travel during the day were in a hurry for one reason or another. Obviously, the mission with the heir was not so important.

Gazing around the camp, the elf could plainly hear the laughs of the orcs and hill men as they enjoyed themselves around their two separate camps. The orcs were playing a twisted game with an animal they had caught, and the hill men were merely playing card games.

Legolas sighed and allowed his head to drop, but his eyes closed against the overwhelming pain he still felt in his ancient body. The internal bleeding needed to be addressed quickly, but the prince knew that he would most likely die before the week was out. Whether due to the bleeding or some new devices by the man from Mordor, Legolas did not expect to live.

Lying there, being left alone for once by his captors, Legolas was able to enjoy the nature around him. Even though he was still worried about Aragorn's safety, as well as his own, the elf basked in the limited sunshine and the shade of the trees.

For over an hour or two, he did not move a single muscle. Legolas was contented for the time that he was not being harmed.

Alas, his peace did not last. Opening his crystal blue eyes near sun down, the injured being could hear heavy footsteps approach the camp near him. Chatter and laughter could be identified, and Legolas was sure that more hill men had arrived at the camp.

But, when the captured elf saw the form being carried carelessly towards the leader's tent, he could not withhold a gasp. Slung over one of the bigger man's shoulders was his best friend.

"Estel." He breathed with worry, and began to struggle to his feet. Looking around at the orcs and humans, he noticed that none were aware of his raising. Managing to stagger to his unstable feet, Legolas faltered as Dúnhere appeared in front of him.

Grabbing the weakened elf's arms, the leader of the hill men dragged the helpless being into the tent holding the man from Mordor and Legolas' best friend.

Seeing Aragorn laying on the ground, his arms and legs tightly bound, Legolas could not help but try to move to his injured friend's side. Being halted by the grip on his arms, all the elf could do was glare at the man who now knelt next to the ranger.

"So, the righteous ranger finally joins us. I must confess, I thought it would be longer until he met up with us." Watching the elf's reaction, the leader from Mordor unsheathed his dagger from his belt.

Holding it up to Aragorn's face, he talked straight to Legolas. "I want you to care for him for now." Showing a meaningful expression, the younger being stood. Motioning to Dúnhere, the leader silently ordered the removal of the elf and ranger.

Nodding his affirmation, the hill man bent down and pulled the unconscious ranger across his shoulders, and looked to the elf. Seeing the injured being, he recognized the need to help the elf as well. Wrapping a strong hand around Legolas' right biceps, he led the elf from the tent, and right to where Legolas had been before.

Dropping Aragorn unceremoniously to the ground, Dúnhere motioned for Legolas to sit beside the ranger. The prince stiffly lowered himself to the ground, and then looked up expectantly to the man. Dúnhere merely glared at him.

"What?" he barked finally when it was apparent Legolas wanted something.

"How am I to tend to him if my hands are bound?" the hill man looked to the elf as if another head had sprouted from his throat, but didn't move to comply. Legolas rolled his eyes in exasperation.

"As if I would try anything." At Dúnhere's dubious look, Legolas elaborated. "I'm wounded, and so is he. There are orcs and hill men everywhere, and I can barely move. Aragorn is tied up and has no weapons. We may want to escape but we're not suicidal." Dúnhere looked to him out of the corner of his eye, but agreed.

Moving forward, he removed his dagger and sliced easily through the ropes around the elf's wrists. Throwing the torn cords away, Dúnhere pointed the small blade to Legolas in dangerous meaning.

"You try anything, and I will kill the both of you." The elf nodded in understanding, but then practically dismissed the man as he leaned over his unawares friend. Gently probing around Aragorn's temples, Legolas found the large knot where the club had smashed into the ranger's head.

Cringing in shared pain, Legolas examined his friend, and discovered the wound to his right shoulder. It bled little, but it seemed to be affecting Aragorn somewhat. Not knowing what else to do, the wood-elf tore a piece of Aragorn's tunic, and gently wiped away the dried blood.

Now, all he had left to do was wait the ranger's waking. Unfortunately, that only left the elf to worrying and confusion.

How had these men captured his friend? Where had Aragorn being taken from? And, what was the point of capturing Legolas and using him if they had gone after Aragorn anyway?

A feeling of dread settled in the pit of Legolas' stomach, and he grew cold. They were going to torture him to get to Aragorn, he just knew it. The leader knew how Aragorn felt towards his friends and family, and realized that the ranger would suffer more pain if they hurt someone he loved in his stead. To watch someone else's suffering would break the dúnadan better than any physical torture done to his body.

Gently cradling Aragorn's inanimate frame, Legolas could feel despair creeping up on him again, but, also, a stronger determination than before. He could not scream. Not one sound. If he did, than the leader would win, for Aragorn would fight anything he could to get Legolas' punishment. The ranger would sacrifice himself for his friend without a second thought, but the elf grasped the fact that if he did, then Middle Earth would be in danger.

Aragorn was the last of a line nearly extinct. He was the last one directly descended from Isildur, and he was the one needed against Sauron and Mordor when the time came. Everyone needed him, and if Legolas could keep him safe in any way he could, than he would. Physical pain and torture meant nothing to him if it meant that Aragorn's life would be spared.

But, he also understood Aragorn's thoughts and feelings. To see your friend take punishment for you would be devastating, and no less than heartbreaking to the ranger. Aragorn had always felt the world on his shoulders, and took the guilt complex to a whole other level. The human cared about everything, and anyone injured under his watch was considered a failure on the part of Aragorn. That he had failed in his duty, and the result was the suffering of another.

Legolas remembered long ago when the dúnadan had discovered his lineage. He had been barely twenty years old, and he and the elven prince of Mirkwood had been friends for scarcely two years when Elrond told his foster son.

Aragorn, son of Arathorn, Heir of Isildur, and future king of Gondor and Arnor. Estel Elrondillon had practically ceased to exist, and the young human had felt the betrayal and burdens of his ancestry. But, his biggest fears had been what none had expected.

He feared that the importance of his survival would overcome everything else. That death would occur just for his protection, and Aragorn knew that he could not bear that. One night on the balcony outside of his chambers, Estel had confessed his terror to the elf.

Aragorn had understood at once the importance of his own life, and he told Legolas how he feared his life would one day overshadow the rescue of another. He admitted that he suspected it would one day come to choosing between his own life and that of someone he loved. That night, he had tried to send Legolas away.

_"Estel, don't you even try!" the elf grabbed Aragorn's arms, and forced the young human to look him full in the eyes. "I would be no true friend if I chose to walk away from you now, or ever!" seeing that his words were not getting through to the stubborn_ adan_, Legolas sighed, and took Aragorn into his arms._

_"No one will stop loving you, Aragorn, son of Arathorn. No matter your ancestry, you are still Estel Elrondillon, brother to Elladan and Elrohir. No one will think less of you because you are the heir. You are still the greatest friend I have ever known."_

_Still holding on to the doubtful human, Legolas could feel the stiffness in Aragorn's body. "I will never leave you, no matter what happens. Even if someone were to take me because of who I know, I would never hate you. It is no fault of yours what blood runs through your veins." Pulling away finally, he made sure Aragorn was paying very close attention._

_"Even if I were to die for you, I would do it gladly. You are my sworn blood brother, Aragorn. Nothing will ever change that. Nothing."_

Looking down at the ranger now, Legolas was hoping that Aragorn remembered his vow as well. Knowing that Legolas was willingly going through all of the torment for him would, hopefully, ease some of the pain Aragorn was bound to experience.

Hearing slight moaning, Legolas looked down to his friend, and was grateful to see the human's gray eyes opening. Examining the ranger again, Legolas was sure that Aragorn had a concussion, but not a serious one.

"Aragorn?" he whispered quietly. The human looked up, somewhat startled, but then flashed Legolas a grin filled with relief.

"Legolas! Thank the Valar!" Aragorn took a hurried once-over the elf's body, and was not happy with what he saw. "Are you alright?" gently pushing Legolas' hair back, Aragorn could see a gash near his hairline, and many bruises across the elf's normally fair features.

Giving the elven prince a look that resembled his father's, Aragorn hastily attempted to sit up, but immediately lay back down as his head swam. Legolas held his shoulders steady, and waited with the ranger for the spell to pass.

After a few minutes, Aragorn began to see straight again, and then sat up more slowly. Pulling away from Legolas, he looked over the prince a second time, and could see a lot more of the elf's injuries easier.

Noticing that his hands were still bound and Legolas' weren't, Aragorn glared at the elf. Legolas merely shrugged, and tried to move away from his inquisitive friend. The ranger, on the other hand, didn't let the elf move far, and pinned him next to a tree. Analyzing Legolas for movement, Aragorn speared the wood-elf with a look that spoke plainly. _Tell me where you're injured._

As if the human had spoken aloud, Legolas began an indignant act. "Now, what would ever make you think I'm injured?" Aragorn did not waste words, and merely looked to the elf. Legolas squirmed under his powerful gaze, and gave in.

Sighing, he quietly spoke. "I have some broken ribs, welts on my back, and I'm not sure about my hipbone." Aragorn continued to stare until Legolas finally relented. "Alright! I think I have some internal bleeding, too."

The ranger nodded his displeasure, but only gestured for Legolas to remove his tunic.

"Aragorn..." the elf began, but his friend cut off any arguments.

"Legolas, you may have internal bleeding and broken bones. Right now, I doubt very much that the hill men are going to let you go for some medical attention, so you have better let me look." Aragorn's stern gray eyes were enough to stop any protests, but it was also the underlying concern that got to the elven prince.

Complying, he started to take off his over tunics. "Orcs." He said out of the blue, and Aragorn averted his gaze from the wounds on his friend's torso to look up at the elf's face.

"What?"

"Orcs. There aren't only hill men. The orcs arrived before we left for Moria." The ranger's face grew even tauter, but he didn't comment. Instead, his face paled as he saw the condition of Legolas' body.

Looking up to his friend, Aragorn moved closer to the elf, and maneuvered so he was sitting behind him. Gently running a hand down the defaced back, Aragorn gulped as he heard Legolas' tiny gasps of pain.

"Oh, mellon nín /my friend/. What did they do to you?" Legolas' eyes were tightly closed against the pain his friend's administrations were bringing, but he attempted some light humor.

"Oh, you know. A whack here, a hit there." But, he bit his lip as Aragorn's fingers came around to feel his arm. Hearing dwarvish curses, Legolas felt embarrassment as the ranger gently pulled his left arm from where the elf tried to hide the wound.

"Blessed Ilúvatar! Legolas, what happened!" the elf strove to downplay his injury, but seeing the look on Aragorn's face, he decided to just tell his best friend what had happened since his capture.

"I guess I got too mouthy." Aragorn looked up from the archer's arm, and Legolas could tell by the pinched features that the ranger knew what the injured elf was going through. "They used a long dagger. Put it in around my wrist and didn't stop until they got to my elbow." The look of horror on Aragorn's face affected Legolas, and he attempted to pull his appendage away from the skilled fingers of the ranger. In spite of that, Aragorn kept his grip firm.

"Legolas, this is already getting infected." The look of concern echoed in the friends' eyes, and the ranger continued to speak with emotion. "If it isn't treated soon..." Legolas finished the healer's sentence.

"I could lose use of my arm."

"Or, the entire arm itself." Legolas paled, his stunned eyes fixing on his wounded limb.

"Estel..."

"Don't worry, Legolas. We'll be able to get to Ada, and he'll heal it. You'll be able to use it like nothing happened." The ranger's assurances worked a little, and Legolas gave a mini-smile.

"Your father is not going to be too happy."

"What, that he'll have to save that overly skilled arm of yours? You're right." The two smiled, but then Aragorn resumed his examination. Wrapping the elf's forearm with strips ripped from his over-shirt, the man looked over the rest of Legolas' wounds.

Cleaning Legolas' back as much as he could, he wrapped the worst welts with strips torn from his over-shirt and the one underneath. Then, he ultimately reached the front of Legolas' upper body.

Seeing the swelling, Aragorn very gently ran a hand over the broken ribs, and tried to work past his friend's pain-filled moans. Working quickly, he confirmed what Legolas had assessed earlier. Five of his left ribs were broken, and three on his right side. Two were cracked in all, but it was apparent the elf suffered from internal bleeding.

Not knowing the full extent still, Aragorn wrapped the ribs tightly so that they would be supported. Discerning that the elf would be in pain if he lay on the ground on any part of his upper body, the ranger helped Legolas lean against him, and told him to rest.

Legolas only smiled, and revealed that even though he was weary, he would get no rest that night.

Looking around, Aragorn found that while he had treated the elf, the sun had set. Sighing, he leaned on the bark of the tree behind him, and waited.

Unfortunately for the wounded elf, the wait was not very long. Dúnhere stomped his way over, and towered over the two wounded friends. Drawing his face into a displeased look at seeing the elf's bandages, he none too gently kicked Legolas' leg to get his attention.

"Elf! You had better wake up!" Legolas' eyes shot open, but he didn't look to the human standing over him and Aragorn.

Aragorn, on the other hand, glared with contempt at the leader of the men who had captured him.

Dúnhere didn't acknowledge the ranger's loathing, and merely pointed threateningly to Legolas. "Behave and the orcs won't have a reason for going after your friend here." Sneering to the ranger, the hill man walked over to join his men.

"Damn hill men, why did they get involved in all this?" but, then an idea came to Aragorn. Starting to stand up, he remembered the cords around his feet. Taking time to untie them with his bound hands, Aragorn casually asked the elf,

"So, who's the one that captured you again?" Legolas watched as the ranger got ready, and then indicated that he would need help up. Reaching down, Aragorn's eyebrows raised in waiting. Legolas looked to the ground, but gave a straight answer.

"I don't know, stubborn ranger. All I know is that he is a commander of Mordor." Having started to help Legolas to his feet, the man stopped in surprise, and stared to his friend.

"A commander of Mordor! Legolas, the only human commander of Mordor would be..." a voice cut him off, and he spun quickly to face the newcomer.

"Long time no see, Estel." Aragorn could barely keep the stunned look from his face.

"Freca." The human's voice was filled with suppressed anger, and all he could do was glare to the man who wanted him dead.

"Ah, I was wondering when one of you would remember me. Although, you certainly have more reason than your elf friend here." Legolas looked wildly from one human to the other. Leaning close to Aragorn, he whispered,

"What's he talking about?" but, Elrond's foster son did not acknowledge his friend.

"I have every reason to remember a murderer who tried to frame me." The coldness held within Aragorn's voice sent shivers down Legolas' spine. Now, he recalled exactly who this human was.

Years ago, a ranger had come to Rivendell with Aragorn for the Winter Solstice season. His name had been Freca, and he had been a young man supposedly from Rohan. He was new with Aragorn's troupe, and the chieftain of the Dúnedain of the north wanted to get to know his new man. Aragorn had made an excuse to stop by Imladris at that time, but in reality it had been a reason to see his family for the cherished season.

But, not all had turned out well.

Murders had been committed all around Imladris, ranging from kitchen maids to high elves. Unfortunately for Aragorn, all evidence had pointed to him as the perpetrator. Elves all over Rivendell had seen a dark haired man flee the scenes, and at first, Freca had been the suspect. But, as time went on, and the murders kept occurring, the man from Rohan had developed alibis. Hapless, Aragorn had no witnesses to his whereabouts.

In the end, Aragorn had nearly been tried and sentenced in the murders, and Freca had almost gotten off free. Until, Legolas had come to Rivendell to clear his friend's name. During all this, the dark Númenorean had gotten skittish. Thinking that the elf and ranger were on to him, Freca had tried to go after Aragorn.

Legolas had helped Aragorn defeat the crazed man, but Freca had managed to escape. Until this moment, the Mirkwood elf had heard nothing of the man from Rohan. Although, it seemed, Aragorn had.

Waving a hand unconcerned, Freca smiled cruelly to the two in front of him. "For twenty years I've wanted revenge on you. I knew from the moment that elf came my plan was done for." Aragorn didn't do anything, didn't bat an eyelid.

"Yeah, well, you shouldn't have tried murdering elves in the place I was raised." Freca laughed, and then stepped closer until he was face to face with his former leader.

"You shouldn't have gotten in my way. Now, I'll make you pay in the worst way imaginable." Motioning with his head for Dúnhere, the evil man stepped back as the hill man grabbed Legolas from behind. Placing a dagger to the pale throat, the man waited for Freca's order.

Aragorn, seeing the hill man seize Legolas, immediately turned to defend his friend. From behind, Freca had drawn his sword, and now hit Aragorn in the shoulder blades with the hilt. Causing the ranger to crash to the ground, the commander stood over his captive.

Aragorn, hearing Legolas' panicked cries, could do nothing to reassure his friend. Still dazed from the last blows to his head, the dúnadan's awareness was swimming about, threatening to send him under.

Legolas, though, understood his friend's trouble. "Blasted humans! He already has a head injury due to your injure happy men! You hit him any more and you'll have problems doing anything with him!" the elf's struggles were minimum, but his words hit hard.

Freca, frowning in petulance, reluctantly put his blade away. Kneeling next to the stunned ranger, he whispered a warning in Aragorn's ear. "Don't try any heroics, Estel. My patience is thin with you already, and you have to remember one fact: We don't need the elf." Leaving it at that, Freca stood, and gesticulated for his men.

All moving away from Aragorn and Legolas for the moment, the elf didn't waste an instant. Painfully kneeling next to the ranger, Legolas assisted Aragorn in sitting up. Rubbing the back of his neck and rotating his shoulders, the wearied ranger looked to his friend.

"Legolas, I'm sorry." Legolas' tired grin brought a little smile to the man's bearded face.

"Oh, Estel, you certainly have a way with people." Aragorn chuckled.

"No, just with those I like." Groaning, he moved his neck from side to side, attempting to rid the throbbing from his jugular area. Looking to Legolas again, he sighed resignedly. "Alright, what do you want to know?"

Legolas looked to him exasperated. "Who is he? I mean, now!" Aragorn shook his head, a hand still around one side of his neck. Sighing yet again, the ranger attempted to give a straight response.

"I haven't heard much, but the rangers have been watching Mordor for some time now.

Around ten years ago, a human went to Sauron, and as far as we know, convinced the Dark Lord to take him into his service. The human rose in ranks, and last I heard, became one of the top commanders in Sauron's dominion." Legolas nodded for Aragorn to continue, but the ranger waited a few seconds to sort his thoughts.

Taking a deep breath, he leaned against his friend for a moment. Regaining his senses, he continued. "He is called the messenger of Sauron." He looked Legolas right in the eyes, making sure the elf comprehended. "The Mouth of Sauron."

**:0Ж0:**


	3. Torture

Legolas stared to the ranger in shock, his surprise not allowing him to say anything.

Aragorn merely looked to his bound hands, and then busied himself with looking over the bandages on Legolas' wounded arm. "I found out five years ago. I was in Rohan, and the king and his advisors were worried about the new human commander of Sauron. It seemed that his power was growing considerably more than we suspected."

The ranger appeared satisfied with the tightness of the dressing, and looked to his stunned elven friend. He leaned closer, his gray eyes showing his concern and regret. "I didn't want Rothinzil to know. You understand as much as I do how he would react if he knew."

Legolas looked sharply to him. "It's not as if he wouldn't have reason!" calming, he looked to the ground, and using his right arm, rubbed his wearied eyes carefully. "We all thought Freca was dead. Things would have been better that way."

Aragorn nodded, but was distracted as he was about to respond. Looking across camp, he could see some of the hill men and orcs starting to fill out the woods. Watching some carrying what supplies had been used in the different camps, the ranger noticed that only a couple orcs came towards Legolas and Aragorn.

"On your feet, scum!" one growled distastefully as it looked on to the two. Getting impatient as Legolas struggled to stand with his broken hip and an injured left arm, one yanked the prince fully to his feet, and threw him back towards the rising ranger.

"You, watch the elf! He falls, and you'll regret it!" then, the foul beasts sat back and watched as a dazed Aragorn attempted to keep the wounded elf on his unstable feet.

Legolas tried not to let on to his pain, but his fractured hipbone gave way to agony he had not felt in a long time. Every time he moved, whether it be his lower or upper body, severe pain shot through his entire form, and coupled with every other wound he had received.

"Legolas, maybe I should carry you." Aragorn suggested after watching his friend struggle to remain standing. "You can't travel very far on that leg, and then you'll make it worse so it won't heal right." His friend's concern made him laugh, but the elf could not deny that the ranger was right.

"Aragorn, I don't think that you would get very far." He said seriously, locking gazes with his well meaning friend. The ranger didn't answer, but just turned boldly to the orc nearest to them.

"Untie me." He demanded of the foul beat, but his bravado merely earned the human a hard fist across the face. Staggering back, the ranger looked back to the orc. "If you want me to help the elf, you'd better untie me." The orcs laughed at his "request", but did release Aragorn. Instead, though, they tied a loop at the end of a rope, and tightened it around the man's throat.

Laughing, they cuffed Aragorn on the side of the head with a, "Stupid human! Thought we'd let him prance off with the elf!" Legolas looked to Aragorn with a look of regret and guilt, and moved to tell the ranger to just forget it. But, the look in the mortal's eyes stopped him.

_Don't, Legolas. I'm fine_. Aragorn's thoughts were plain to the prince, and he nodded his resignation. He wasn't happy with his friend's predicament, but he would succumb this time.

Aragorn moved forward, and carefully picking Legolas up in his strong arms, turned to the orcs. Proving to them that he would not be intimidated, Aragorn let the orc grab the end of the rope, and then they were moving.

**:0Ж0:**

Aragorn nearly staggered with exhaustion as they finally reached the mouth of the River Limlight, near Fangorn Forest. The orc/ hill men company had traveled all day and mostly into the night after leaving Moria, and had covered a lot of ground. Unfortunately for the elf, and especially the ranger, that had meant over 150 miles of traveling over mountains and low hills.

By the end of the day, Aragorn's legs had been close to giving out, and his head wound was affecting his vision. Near sundown, the orcs were practically dragging the elf and ranger on, and Legolas was growing increasingly worse.

His internal bleeding was sapping more and more of his strength as time went on, and the rattling of his broken bones was not helping. Aragorn had tried to ease the journey for his friend, but it had grown increasingly difficult, as the pace of the group had strengthened. After awhile, the ranger could barely keep himself up and moving. Legolas had gotten heavier and heavier, and it had been all he could do to keep the elf in his arms. Aragorn was suffering from the sun and the harsh treatments of the orcs and hill men, whilst Legolas began to drift in and out of consciousness.

Now, Aragorn could not help but collapse to his knees, and cradle his lifeless friend in his trembling arms. No matter how much the orc pulled on the noose, the ranger would not, could not, rise to his feet. He just accepted that he might get punished, and prepared himself for the inevitable.

Nevertheless, the punishment never came, but Freca did come to his side. Looking down on his former leader with disgust, Freca nudged Aragorn's wearied calf with the toe of his boot.

"So, you finally give out, huh? I always knew you were a stubborn one." An evil smile drew across his face, and he knelt down next to the ranger and his injured elven friend.

"You see, we're ultimately heading for Mordor. You and your precious elf here will be servants of Sauron." Freca drew close to Aragorn, his face only inches away from the fatigued ranger's. "I will enjoy watching my son get rid of you." Aragorn did not allow his surprise to show on his face, but inwardly, he cringed away.

Freca had a son? Shivering, Aragorn silently pitied the boy. Any son of this man had to have been raised exactly as Freca had, and living in Mordor could not be a bonus of any kind.

Freca laughed, knowing the ranger's thoughts. Not commenting on his son anymore, the Mouth of Sauron sat back on his heels, and stared at the other man. Waiting to gouge the other's reaction, he spoke again.

"Right now, we'll be loading you and your friend on to a "borrowed" Corsair ship, and we'll be taking you to Mordor. You two should have a lot of fun!" laughing, he waited, and put a hand to his chin, seemingly as if he was thinking deeply.

"But, I really don't want to be bothered with you on this trip, as I am already weary of the boat situation. So," here, he drew his sword again behind the ranger's back.

Aragorn, through the younger man's rambling, had not paid attention to any of it. He had known from the first time he had laid eyes on Freca that they'd be heading for Mordor, so he wasn't too surprised. He only had eyes for Legolas right now, his worry for his closest friend overshadowing everything else.

"See you at Amon Hen." Freca sneered, and brought the hilt of his sword down as hard as he could on the back of Aragorn's head. The ranger dropped at once, not even noticing as Legolas rolled from his grasp. He merely blacked out, and lay still on the grass.

Sheathing his sword, Freca stared at the fallen dúnadan with contempt, and then motioned to some of his men. "Get the ranger and the elf loaded!" turning to the woods, his smile slowly drew across his teeth. "It's going to be a long trip."

**:0Ж0:**

Clasping the rail in front of him tightly, Lord Elrond Peredhil looked over the falls of his home distractedly. His son had been gone for weeks, and just two days ago, he had received word from Mirkwood.

It seemed that Estel had spoken with the king, and now Thranduil knew of the dangers his son was in. Mirkwood's king had expressed his worries for both Legolas and Estel, but also his anger. Legolas, the prince, had been abducted from his own realm, and no one had known. No one except Aragorn.

Now, Elrond could sense a darkness coming. Something was not only threatening the Heir of Isildur, but someone or something was coming to Imladris. He had not been this certain since the murders nearly twenty-five years ago. He had been sure of the dangers then, and the half-elf had not been disappointed.

"Oh, Estel. What trouble you get into." He muttered quietly to himself. Looking up to the sky, he sighed.

"If anything, Elrond, he got it from you." Smiling, Elrond didn't turn as he sensed a familiar presence behind him.

"Oh? I thought it was the twins who influence him." A slight chuckle came, and a golden haired elf stepped up to stand next to his lord and friend.

"Nay, mellon nín, for even those infuriating brats had to learn it from somewhere." He succeeded in a small chuckle from a disturbed Elrond, but even that faded quickly.

"Oh, Glorfindel, what has he gotten into his time? If the prince is dead, then my Estel will be forever shattered." A strong hand was placed reassuringly on his shoulder, and Glorfindel looked out to the falls with Elrond.

"Don't give up. Estel will prove himself yet again." Elrond closed his eyes, and sagged against the firm form of his friend and counselor.

"I sure hope so."

**:0Ж0:**

Aragorn awoke with a groan, his senses aware of the chill in the air. Moving slightly, he recognized the feel of rope around his wrists, and he groaned again. Not being able to feel the bump on the back of his head, the ranger just laid back for a moment.

Hearing the sound of waves against a shore, Aragorn opened his eyes part way, and glanced around briefly. Seeing some of the ruins around him, he realized exactly where he was. Amon Hen.

Struggling to sit up, a thought struck. Where was Legolas? Looking around frantically, he saw the elf lying a few feet away from him, not appearing any better than he had the night before.

Realizing that a full day had passed, anger swelled in Aragorn. It seemed that even being knocked out wasn't good enough for Freca, but he had drugged the ranger while he had been unconscious.

Seeing orcs and hill men coming, he sighed. Crawling over to the motionless form of his friend, Aragorn used his hands to check the elf's condition. Smiling in relief when Legolas groaned at his probing, he waited for the blue eyes to open.

Legolas, seeing Aragorn kneeling over him, gave a moan, and attempted to sit up. The mortal put out a hand to keep him from rising, and just shook his head at the elf's determination.

"Stubborn elf." He said with a smile, and Legolas responded with a weak laugh of his own.

"Filthy human." The prince whispered, but was evidently satisfied to see that Aragorn did not look as if he had been hurt any more. "It finally looks as if you can take care of yourself without me for a little while." Legolas commented with a smirk. Coughing just a little, he leaned against Aragorn's thigh. "I see you're no worse for the wear than before."

Aragorn put a hand on Legolas' forehead, but did not give voice to his worry. "Except for a new bump on the back of my head, you mean." He added without thinking, and regretted it as Legolas jerked to look at him.

"Estel..." but, the ranger interrupted him.

"No, it was just a knock on the head. Freca didn't want me aware for the trip down here, so he took care of that."

"Aragorn! That's the third hit in two days... What do you mean for the trip down here?" looking around, he finally realized that they weren't anywhere near the Misty Mountains anymore. "Where are we?" he asked after a moment.

Aragorn shook his head with a smile. "Amon Hen, but, I'm guessing we passed right by Caras Galadon, so the Lady Galadriel most likely doesn't know we've been taken."

Legolas smiled his negative thoughts. "No, the Lady of the Golden Wood knows much more than we do, Human, and she undoubtedly knows that we've been captured. However, there most likely isn't anything she can do about it."

Aragorn threw up his bound arms in exasperation. "Like that does us any good!" he exclaimed, but then drew in a deep breath. "I'm just worried, Legolas."

The prince put a comforting hand on his friend's, and his smile grew. "I'd be even more worried if you didn't." He remarked, and then chuckled as Aragorn shook his head.

"What am I going to do with you?" he questioned, amused. Legolas smiled back.

"Help me up." Aragorn laughed, but then braced his bound arms behind his friend's back, and pushed. Legolas pushed upwards with his arms, and soon, they had the elf leaning against the ranger.

But, the two's short relief period was shattered as an amused voice rang out. "How sweet, looks like the prisoners are awake at last." Freca stepped from the shadow of a tree, and his grin sent shivers down both Aragorn and Legolas' backs.

The man radiated an inner evil like nothing else, and both good beings could not stand the presence of the other. Freca, knowing this, used the dislike as much as he could. Walking closer to the two friends, he could not help but gloat.

"It seems that the orcs' bloodlust is becoming stronger than even I can control." Legolas' face paled further, but he straightened his back in reference to more torture. Freca laughed. "I knew it, Elf. You are foolish, willingly sacrificing yourself for him." The evil man bent over, looking at Legolas closely. "Is he worth it?"

The prince didn't respond, but just looked to Aragorn. _I'm sorry_. His gaze sent his regret, but also his determination. He really wouldn't allow harm to come to Aragorn if he could help it.

Aragorn merely glared at his friend. He, in turn, wasn't about to let these monsters hurt his best friend more than they already had. Freca wanted to satisfy the orcs, huh? Well, Aragorn was resolved that he would be the one used this time.

Freca gestured to Dúnhere, who had come up behind the man from Mordor, and the hill man moved to gather Legolas from Aragorn's grasp. However, the ranger was not going to release his friend so easily.

"Enough! He did nothing to deserve this! He is the best friend I will ever have, and I will not let him pay for the weakness in **my** blood. I will not let him be the price for my life." Aragorn looked straight to Freca, challenging him.

"How much do you want to break me, Freca? How many years have you yearned for my blood?" the Mouth of Sauron moved to strike the insolent ranger, but restrained himself in time. Instead, his lips drew across his teeth in a straight line, his anger barely contained.

"Fine, you want to offer yourself to the orcs, go right ahead. But," he looked to Legolas, and reached down. Yanking the injured elf to his feet, he threw Legolas into Dúnhere's waiting arms, and then looked back to Aragorn.

"He'll watch every minute of it." Aragorn raised his chin in defiance, but his gaze flickered over to the devastated face of his friend.

"I won't let it happen again, Legolas. I won't." He then looked to Freca. Staring the younger man coldly in the eyes, he didn't break contact until the Mouth of Sauron tore his eyes away from the strong gaze of the ranger.

Yelling to some of the orcs, he ordered them to take Aragorn to the main ruins. Smiling, he grabbed the other man's chin, and moved his face inches from Aragorn's. "Let's see you get away from this, Ranger." He said with disdain, and then hit Aragorn hard across the face.

Strider didn't fall over as orcs grabbed his arms and held him up, but he could feel blood dribble down his face from a cut near his lip. Next to him, he could hear Legolas' labored breathing, and almost cursed in Freca's face at his cruelty. Having Legolas dragged like this would not be good for the broken bones and ripped insides, but as of now, there was nothing Aragorn could do for his friend.

Himself being dragged, Aragorn could not help but think of what the orcs were about to do to him. Through bushes and up hills, the ranger was left to dwell on the near future, and he could not help but sweat with anxiety. From behind, he could hear Legolas' minute cries of pain, and he closed his eyes against his friend's torment.

All too soon, the small company came to ruins that seemed to be an ancient room of some kind. An old stone altar rested in the center of the 'room', and torches lit the nearly enclosed area. Orcs gathered around the table, but separated into a thin aisle way as Aragorn and Legolas were led up next to the table.

Legolas was handed off to a couple hill men that stood around the table, and Aragorn was dragged until he was almost falling over the table. Orcs came from behind him, and lifted him easily on top of the crude surface. Clawed hands ripped at his bonds until his arms were free, and cruel hands removed his boots from his feet. Stronger hands held his arms and legs down as new cords were wrapped around curved metal pieces attached to the end of the table. When he was secured, Aragorn was practically lying eagle-like across the altar.

Looking around quickly with his eyes, Aragorn could see a couple of orcs through the throng, and they appeared to be sharpening a scimitar. Gulping, he laid his head back against the table, and closed his eyes; waiting.

Legolas could only watch in horror as his friend was prepared to be tortured. He, too, noticed the orcs in the corner, and if not for the pain in his body, would be fighting to be near Aragorn. He could see the human's fear, but also sensed his strength. Aragorn was going to go through this for a cause noble enough in his mind, but Legolas knew that the ranger was still scared.

Seeing an orc with the scimitar walking towards Aragorn, the prince renewed his struggles until Dúnhere came over a placed a blade under his chin. "Give me reason, Elf. Just one." He threatened with venom, and glared into the crystal blue eyes. Legolas' struggles stopped, and all he could do was watch as his friend was subjected to the mercy of the orcs.

**:0Ж0:**


	4. Devastation

Aragorn, for his part, didn't show his panic as the orc drew nearer. Taking a cleansing breath, he exhaled, and drew on his courage. He would go through this for his friend, plain and simple. Nothing would change that. Nothing.

The new orc leader stepped forward, and grinned evilly. Spittle dripped off its fangs, and it glowered at the ranger fettered to the altar. Twirling the scimitar in its fingers, it growled softly in pleasure. It would get to torture this ranger and it was going to enjoy every minute of it.

Walking slowly around to the end of the table, it smiled, knowing that Aragorn's gaze would follow its actions. Taking the blade, it positioned it first right above the right ankle. Twisting the cutting edge back and forth across the delicate skin there, Aragorn could feel the blade dipping deeper and deeper into his body.

Mustering his strength, he waited as the orc got bored with the ankle. Moving up a couple inches until the scimitar was even with the calf muscle, the orc slowly moved so the blade didn't just graze, but went in a little ways into the soft part of Aragorn's leg. The ranger's breath caught, but he didn't reveal anymore pain than that.

The orc, hearing its prisoner's intake of breath, smiled. Removing the knife from the calf, it moved upwards to the knee, and made an even deeper cut. Aragorn arched a little, and his hands clutched into tight fists. Breathing heavier, he almost cried out as the orc moved the scimitar across his knee from the inside.

On the side, Legolas could see the pain starting to manifest in Aragorn's eyes and face. The ranger was not crying out, but the elf wondered how long it would take his friend to give into his pain.

The orc again removed the blade, and this time grinned as it placed the tip to the middle of the outside of Aragorn's right leg. Looking up to the elf instead of the ranger, the orc struck with callousness. Impaling the center of Aragorn's thigh, the orc closed its eyes in pleasure as the ranger let loose a strangled cry and arched off the table.

Aragorn had felt the tip on the outside of his leg and could not help but tense as the orc looked to Legolas. He knew what the foul thing intended, and could only wait as the blade suddenly was dug into his leg.

Legolas closed his eyes, but to ward off the sight of the blade dug into his friend's leg. Knowing how painful it must be, the elf could not watch as the orcs burst into laughs and evil catcalls as Aragorn's blood ran onto the top of the table.

The orc leader let loose the loudest laugh, and twisted the scimitar within Aragorn's leg for good measure. Aragorn gave a choked cry, and his face screwed up against the agony. His fists were clenched so tightly that his knuckles were white.

The orc removed the blade, and to the horror and dread of Legolas and Aragorn, moved to the left leg. Woefully, though, the orc started with the left ankle with a powerful cut that had blood streaming. When it reached the left thigh, the orc carefully carved Aragorn's leg, and roared with delectation as the ranger's cries gave way to screams.

Legolas had tears running down his own face as he heard his friend's pain, and tried to recoil as Dúnhere's mockery fueled his desperation. Looking to the side, he could see Freca.

The Mouth of Sauron had a sickening smile on his face as he listened to Aragorn's screams, and he had his arms crossed firmly across his chest. He stood in a confidant pose, and his enjoyment was obvious.

Hearing another one of Aragorn's outcries of agony, Legolas could take it no longer.

Moving so he stood facing Freca, he yelled, "Freca!" the messenger of Sauron turned in surprise, and he smiled as he saw the elf's pain.

"You've seen enough of his pain and enough of his blood! Stop this madness before they kill him!" Legolas demanded in sorrow, but he watched as Freca's gaze flickered to the torture taking place.

Recognizing the dismay at ending a torture session, Legolas prayed to the Valar more than he ever had. _Let him stop this_. _Let him spare Estel_. Freca looked back to the elven prince, and nodded reluctantly.

"Stop!" his voice bellowed out, and the orc leader paused in surprise. The blade was still embedded in Aragorn's thigh, and the orc turned and quickly pulled it out. Aragorn was almost out of it, and his head just lolled as the pain washed over him.

"Take the ranger down, and return him to the bank." He then turned to Legolas as the disappointed orcs moved to take Aragorn from the altar. "Care for him, Elf. He dies, and it will be your fault."

Legolas' eyes flickered over to Aragorn's motionless form being carried past him, and he looked obstinately back to Freca. "If he dies, what will you tell your master?" Freca's arm connected with Legolas' chin, but the prince did not truly falter.

Dúnhere stepped forward, and loathsomely wrapped an arm around Legolas' waist. Dragging the elf behind the ranger and the orcs, he led the prince to the shore, and threw him down next to Aragorn.

Legolas did not let the pain of his own injuries stop him, and he immediately moved for his motionless friend. Dúnhere's mouth turned up in disgust, and he moved away for the fire of his men.

A fire had been lit near the two captives, and Legolas used the light to look over Aragorn's injuries.

Running a hand over the ranger's thighs, he cringed in shared pain. Hearing a stifled cry and a groan, the elf looked down into the pain-filled face of his best friend.

"Estel, mellon nín, don't move!" he said with relief at seeing Aragorn alert. The human could barely understand Legolas from all the pain he was experiencing, but he could sense his friend's worry.

"Legolas..." he muttered. The elven prince's worry melted into anger as he attempted to rip the remainder of their shirts into bandages.

"Estel Elrondillon, don't you ever do that again, do you understand me? I will not have my best friend going through that just to save me a little pain. Do you understand me, Aragorn?" Legolas looked down into the distressed face of Aragorn, and his anger faded out.

Bending over, tears shimmering in his eyes, Legolas touched his forehead to Aragorn's. "Im dim, Estel. Amin harmuva onalle e' cormamin /I'm sorry, Estel. I shall treasure your gift in my heart/." Sobs started to shake his weakened body, and he could not stop.

"Just, please, don't do that again. Not for me." Aragorn's pain-glazed eyes fixated wearily on Legolas' face, and he smiled feebly.

"Who else for, mundo dol mellon nín /my bull headed friend?" he responded, but then his eyes closed against the pain, and his back arched. Legolas struggled to stop the bleeding, but the wounds were deep.

"Aragorn." Legolas' way of saying the ranger's name in a situation always amused Aragorn. It held warning and worry and concern all at one time, and it also seemed to comfort the injured ranger. Now, he chuckled lightly.

"I know, Legolas. The bleeding isn't stopping. Just hold it there for a moment longer, and we'll see."

**:0Ж0:**

It was a few days later, and the elven prince of Mirkwood still feared deeply for his friend. Aragorn's wounds were festering, and the ranger was developing dangerous fevers. He was sweating profusely, and his body's temperatures were leading to delirium and shock. The human was slowly fading, and there was nothing Legolas could do to help.

Freca laughed silently as he watched the desperation in which the elf struggled to save his friend, and he gloated in the fact that Aragorn was gradually dying. Ever since Aragorn and Legolas had defeated the dark Númenorean nearly thirty years ago, the man had been bent on revenge.

When he had heard that Sauron was rising again, Freca had leapt at the chance to join the Dark Lord's cause. He had known that if he had, he would have a validated excuse for going after the Heir of Isildur. He had lied to Legolas. Sauron had no idea that his human commander was going after the descendant of Elendil.

Freca had told his master that he was going to squelch the threat of the revolting peasants near the Mordor/ Gondor border. A resistance had been developing for years, and the people were finally getting enough initiative to go against Sauron and his dominion. The Dark Lord had not cared, had laughed really at the thought of the free peoples going against him. Sauron knew that the people would never really make it against him without the Heir of Isildur.

The Mouth of Sauron had used this to his advantage. Freca had always known the information he held was important, but he wanted the glory for himself too much to tell anyone else of the elves raising Aragorn all those years.

But, after the murders... Never before had Freca felt such want for vengeance.

Now, he had the two people responsible within his grasp, and he was not about to let them escape.

Seeing the two of them together again, Freca felt unbelievable anger. He would make those two pay, and that'd be the end of it. Smiling devilishly, the human looked to Dúnhere further down the way. The hill man could sense his leader's gaze on him, and turned uncomfortably to lock looks.

Freca did not truly acknowledge the other man, but continued to smile. "How would you like to have a little more fun?"

**:0Ж0:**

"Estel? Estel, are you awake?" soft whispers awoke the ranger from his rest, and Aragorn groaned softly as the heat and pain in his body made themselves known loudly. He slowly opened his eyes to look into the worried gaze of his best friend, and gave a wearied smile.

"I am now." Then, he grew concerned, and coughed. "Lego...Legolas, are you alright?" the elven prince's face was even paler, if such a thing was possible, and he was trembling even more noticeably. Legolas cradled Aragorn in his lap unsteadily, but still did not look to the man.

"I am fine, Estel. It is you I am truly worried about. How are your legs feeling?" Aragorn attempted to move his legs to ease the discomfort, but then sucked in his breath loudly as pain erupted from every part of his lower body.

Crying out as well, his hand flew out to Legolas' wrist, and gripped the slender limb tightly. Squeezing as he rode out the pain, his eyes closed and he took deep breaths.

After a little bit, he was ready to talk again. "Legolas, don't worry about me, mellon, for it is you who have the internal bleeding and everything else broken. And, I'm sure taking care of me is not helping." Shivering with the chills that invaded his strong form, Aragorn unknowingly snuggled closer to the warmth of Legolas' body.

Legolas noticed, though, and wrapped an arm around his friend's shoulders tightly. He coughed, and could begin to finally taste the coppery flavor of his blood. It seemed that his internal bleeding was showing through at last.

Unfortunately for him, Aragorn noticed his uneasiness, and knew at once the cause. He had used his healing talents, but there was still nothing he could do to aid his friend. Legolas was slowly dying.

Now, he looked to the prince, and he gently put a hand to Legolas' temple. "Just stay with me, Legolas. Please, don't leave me." The elf smiled shakily down to his friend, but could not truly say anything to reassure the human.

Aragorn tried to sit up, but the increasing pain in his legs prohibited any type of movement. Sucking in his breath, he sagged against Legolas heavily, and was forced to try and ride the pain. But, even with his eyes closed, the dizziness and nausea did not subside.

"Legolas, I think I'm going to be sick." He breathed out. Legolas looked to Aragorn with alarm, and gently helped the ranger to his side. It took a moment for the tremors to diminish, and Aragorn dropped even more across Legolas' lap. The blood loss of his legs, and the fevers gathering in his body from the infection, was beginning to take hold. He was becoming weaker and weaker, and anything more done to him would send him over the edge.

Legolas draped his uninjured arm across Aragorn's chest, and he leaned back somewhat. He knew that if he and the human didn't get help soon, then both would most likely perish.

So, for an hour or more, all Legolas could do was watch his friend drop into delirium. The fevers were taking an even stronger hold on the ranger's weakened body, and the elf wasn't sure how much longer Aragorn would stay with him. The high temperatures in the human's body were increasing dramatically, and Aragorn wouldn't be able to fight the infection in his body for much longer.

Leaning over the ailing human, Legolas was surprised as strong arms wrapped around his forearms. Yanked to his feet, the elf could not help cry out as some of his weight pressed down on his left hip. Aragorn, aware of something going wrong with his friend, struggled for alertness so he could assist Legolas, but some of the hill men cruelly stepped on his legs to keep him submissive.

Crying out, unable to stop himself, Aragorn attempted to curl away from the new abuse on his body, but the evil men stopped him. Legolas, watching the torture being inflicted on his friend, looked past his own agony.

"Leave him be!" he shouted, fighting against the arms on his own body. "He cannot fight you, leave him be!" Dúnhere was the one mostly behind Legolas, and he struck the elf in the back of the head.

"Silence, Elf!" he then threw the stunned immortal into the grasps of some of his men, and then motioned for the others to carry the ranger. He looked to Legolas.

"We have permission to have some fun with you, Elfy. I hope you enjoy it as much as I will." Legolas' face paled, but he attempted to remain strong. He needed to for Aragorn.

"Do what you will with me, if it truly makes you happy." He snapped out, and the men shoved him forward for his bravado. Legolas stumbled, and nearly fell, but one of the men grabbed his bad left arm and pulled until the elf was somewhat on his feet again.

The elven prince nearly passed out from the explosion of pain that coursed through his arm at that point, but through sheer force of will, remained conscious.

Dragging the pair to the edge of the trees, Dúnhere removed a set of manacles from a bag, and moved to one of the trees with a low branch. Attaching one end to the branch, he motioned for Legolas to be brought to him, and for Aragorn to be held.

Bringing the elf over, the hill men could not contain their excitement at the prospect of more torture. Two holding him, one other tore off the shreds that remained of Legolas' tunic, while a last one chained the elf's wrists above his head.

Legolas tried not to appear nervous, but memories of his last torture session ran through his mind, and he could not help but gulp. If anything, these men could and would do whatever they wanted to the defenseless elf, and there was nothing Aragorn or Legolas could do to stop them.

From behind, Legolas could hear some rustling, and then with a slight _whoosh_ of air, the prince felt a sharp club tear into his back. Closing his eyes against the unexpected pain, Legolas took in deep breaths and tried to calm his racing heart.

The club had hit just behind the ribs that were broken, and the pain was excruciating. But, Legolas could also feel something rather disturbing.

Not allowed time to dwell on it, another blow fell, and this time, Legolas could feel something enter his back. Arching, Legolas opened his mouth for a silent cry. Oh, Great Eru, how that had hurt!

Stepping around the elf so that he could show Legolas the tool being used, Dúnhere could not keep the evil sneer off his face. Holding up his club, Legolas got a full look at what his torture device looked like.

It was one of the orcs' clubs, but the hill men had 'improved' on it. Barbs from arrows were tied loosely to some of the ends, and they stuck out like porcupine quills. Horror dawned on Legolas as he figured out what the hill man was doing.

Apparently, Aragorn had, too. Being forced to watch, even through his delirious state, he was able to recognize the arrow tips on the club. Knowing the leader's plans, the ranger could not help but cry out.

"No! You cannot do this! That could paralyze him for all you know!" Dúnhere merely smiled in response.

"Grand, isn't it?" Aragorn growled, and attempted to throw himself towards the leader of the hill men and his best friend, but was halted by the stronger grips of his captors. He was desperate to reach Legolas, for he knew that the elf could only take so much more.

Unfortunately, though, Aragorn was too weak to fight anyone.

Watching Legolas' face screw up in pain as another stroke fell, the ranger could not help but cry out again. "Please! I'm begging you! Stop this before you kill him!" the hill man did not even acknowledge the other man, but his evil smile grew considerably.

Instead of answering, his next blow against the elf's back sounded as if bones were being crushed. Legolas could not help but scream in complete agony as he felt bones and vertebrate move through his whole back. Feeling arrow tips lodge in his flesh, the elf nearly passed out from the overwhelming torment. Hearing Aragorn's choked cries behind him, Legolas could not turn to look to his friend. Closing his eyes in suffering, the prince could feel tears escape his eyes as he realized something after a moment.

Dúnhere grinned, and motioned to his men. Laughing, he rounded the bound elf, and grabbed his chin, forcing the injured immortal to look him full in the face. Seeing the moisture on the elf's face, he laughed, and cruelly wiped at the tears that had trailed down his face. Not commenting, he spoke only to goad the prince's misery.

"Let's see you live through this, _Your Majesty_." Then, he turned to his men. "Let the elf down, and then let the ranger go." His men's confused expressions, he spoke again as if he were talking to ignoramuses. "I don't think the elf is going anywhere any time soon."

The men still did not understand, but did not tell their leader that. Just shrugging slightly, the hill men released Aragorn, and practically threw him to the ground. A few rushed over to Legolas, and using the key, let the elf crash heavily to the soil. Legolas let loose a choked cry, and tried to curl onto his side.

Aragorn, not looking to the hill men standing over him, anxiously tried to crawl to his friend. Dúnhere, seeing the frantic movements of the ranger, harshly kicked Aragorn into the ground. His face landing hard in the earth, Aragorn was not able to move as Dúnhere leaned heavily with his weight. Bending over the captive ranger, the hill man whispered,

"Do what you can, Ranger; you won't be able to save him." Pushing down one final time, Dúnhere turned, and slowly walked away.

The ranger did not even waste time in watching the men leave, but instead rolled over and crawled as fast as his wearied body could go. Seeing Legolas curled in on himself, trying extremely hard not to cry out anymore, broke Aragorn's heart. He was used to seeing the elven warrior so strong and fierce, and it was strange to see Legolas so frail and almost broken.

Making it to Legolas' side, Aragorn just sat there for a moment. "Legolas?" he quietly questioned, his own pain pale in comparison to the agony of his elven friend. "Legolas?"

The elf could not answer for many moments, just laid there trying to suppress his pain. Opening his pain-filled, blue eyes, Legolas looked up at Aragorn. Seeing the unknown anguish within the elf, Aragorn gently placed a hand on his friend's shoulder.

Legolas almost shuddered as he felt his friend's touch, and his tortured eyes latched on to Aragorn. "Estel... I can't..." he closed his eyes, and swallowed. Legolas took a few deep breaths, and Aragorn could read the torture that traveled through the immortal's body.

Without opening his eyes, Legolas whispered brokenly, "I can't feel my legs."

**CHAPTER BREAK**

**:0Ж0:**

Slipping silently through the shadows, several rangers of the north headed towards the reported orc camp. Many that had patrolled the lands said that they had heard screaming from around Amon Hen, and some of the rangers volunteered to check out the surrounding terrain for the origins.

Leading this group was Anders, son of Halbarad, and he was a little scared. He had heard from Strider's elven brothers that the human was in danger and had gone after Prince Legolas, and every word had sent shudders through his heart. Strider had helped raise the boy since Halbarad had allowed his son to stay with him in the camps, and the man was like a second father or uncle to Anders. Even Legolas was close to the young human, for the elven prince had joined in all the adventures that had occurred over the years.

Hearing that both were missing sent shivers down his back, and embedded fear into his heart; especially when it was reported that orcs were around.

Looking to his father who was beside him, Anders motioned for his men to move closer to the camp.

**:0Ж0:**

Aragorn could only look to Legolas with a look akin to horror. Hearing that his worst fears concerning his friend was realized, the ranger could only sag against Legolas.

"Oh, mellon nín. No..." his voice drifted off, and he closed his eyes. Pulling a hand up to rub at his wearied eyes,

Aragorn could only comfort Legolas. "Let me look." He then very gently ran his hands down Legolas' bloodied back, and cringed visibly when his fingers came into contact with the broken skin and the end of the arrow tips.

Knowing that the arrow tips were probably not the problem, Aragorn gently talked to his friend, trying to calm Legolas down. "I think it could be swelling, Legolas; nothing more. The arrow tips will come out and the swelling should come down. This could only be temporary, mellon nín. "

Legolas didn't look up or anything and a sense of defeat seemed to hang around him. "It's no use, Estel. We won't be getting out of this to see whether or not it is." The ranger nearly jerked at the elf's words. Legolas was giving up! No!

"Legolas, I will not let these spawn take us to Mordor, and I will personally make sure that you see my father. Do you understand me, Elf?" Aragorn's stern words brought a semi-smile to Legolas' injured and bruised face, and he said,

"Estel, what attitude you have." But, the small moment faded. "I understand, Aragorn, and I believe in you." Opening his eyes, his wearied gaze tore into Aragorn's own gray orbs. "I just hope we can get away in time."

**:0Ж0:**

Hearing the end of the scouts' reports, Anders looked to his father. Nodding his understanding after a moment, the young ranger moved through the beginning twilight, his senses on overload. The scouts had finally confirmed that orcs did indeed rest near the ruins of Amon Hen, and two figures had been spotted near the center of the group a few times. Just a few hours ago, one had been beaten in a public display.

Now, Anders and Halbarad were convinced that it was Strider and Prince Legolas. Only those two trouble makers could be this far south in the company of orcs and hill men. At the moment, both were worried over the conditions of the two captives.

Moving stealthily through the woods, the Dúnedain were aware of the position of the orc/ hill men camp, and were being cautious. A surprise attack was necessary, and the last thing the group needed was to be sighted by their quarry.

**:0Ж0:**

Freca paced around his tent, his agitation showing through quite plainly. '_Now what am I going to do with those fools? They've both seen each other suffering, but is that enough? I wanted the ranger to experience the worst pain imaginable, but have I succeeded? Has he gone through enough? _Throwing his hands up in frustration, and running a hand through his dark hair, the Mouth of Sauron spun around.

An evil smile slowly spread across his face, and his hands fell to his sides. Spotting something that he had left lying around, Freca walked over to the object. Carefully picking it up, he slowly fitted it to his knuckles, and flexed just to make sure.

Speaking aloud, he could not help but feel giddy. "Oh, I believe I have discovered a commodity that will work just nicely."

**:0Ж0:**

Legolas was sleeping fretfully, and Aragorn carefully kept watch over his friend's condition. He himself was not feeling up to par with the blood loss and the temperatures of his body, but Aragorn would do just about anything to protect his friend from further harm.

Leaning back against a tree near them, the ranger ran a comforting hand through Legolas' long, blonde locks; almost calming the elf down. Keeping his hand moving, his gray eyes drifted to Eärendil and its sacred light. Seeing the star, he felt a sense of peace fall over him, but he was still aware. Until Aragorn was sure that he and his immortal companion could escape, his guard would be on full alert.

Seeing Gil-Estel beginning to shine in the sky still helped hope resound through his heart, and refueled his determination. He would get Legolas out of this, even if he had to die to save his friend.

Hearing heavy footsteps approaching, the ranger snapped his head down, and stared hard at Dúnhere. Glaring his hatred and defiance, he knew that the hill man barely acknowledged the ranger. Seeing the hill man's contemptuous eyes fall on the slumbering elf, Aragorn quickly moved to interfere.

"What do you want?" Dúnhere reluctantly looked to the ranger, and sneered at him.

"Master Freca wishes the elf and yourself to join him." He then leaned over, bent on waking the elf up cruelly. Aragorn intercepted his arm.

"I'll wake him up." Dúnhere snarled, but moved away. Aragorn carefully leaned over his friend, and gently tapped his cheek.

"Legolas, amin -uva coire/Legolas, you must wake up/" Aragorn's quiet pleading brought Legolas out of his pain enhanced sleep, and he groggily opened his blue eyes.

"Estel? What...?" the human didn't explain, but only began to stand. Legolas got the meaning, but his face almost immediately dropped. "Estel, I..." Aragorn stopped him, and finally got fully to his feet. Testing the weight on both of his legs, he wasn't surprised when both nearly gave out.

Instead of sitting down, Aragorn bent over and slid his arms underneath Legolas' slight frame. Lifting, he almost fell over at both their weights.

"Estel! Este nin nu! Amin mai nev rast/Put me down! You can barely stand/" Legolas' worried words touched Aragorn, but he was determined.

"I am carrying you, for I do not trust this filth of Mordor as far as I can throw them!" Legolas rolled his eyes, but the worried expression stayed on his face each time he felt his friend stumble on the ground.

Following Dúnhere, the three came to the edge of the shore, where Freca and a few orcs and hill men stood. A bright fire burned in a small pit, and the numerous evil beings looked up as Aragorn and Legolas came closer.

Still holding onto his elven friend, Aragorn stopped just shy of where the firelight touched the sand. He didn't want to get any closer to the maniac servant of Mordor. He didn't want Freca getting any more ideas of how to torture the defenseless elf.

But, it seemed as if the man had come up with some without the elf and ranger being nearby.

Seeing Freca's evil sneer, Aragorn's eyes shot around, seeing the anticipation shining in the orcs and hill men. Something was about to happen, and the ranger could guess that it had to do with Legolas and him.

Starting to back up, Aragorn was stopped by Dúnhere coming up behind him. Not looking back, he held Legolas tighter. The elf, feeling the tense form of his friend, looked around in suspicion, trying not to reveal his fear.

Freca nodded, and Aragorn's heart lurched. Looking around for the being about to attack, the ranger was unprepared for an orc merely coming towards him and wrestling Legolas from his grasp.

Legolas, too, wasn't ready, and gave a half-choked cry as the Mordor spawn's claws dug into his weakened body. Struggling only a little, he and Aragorn were unable to keep the orc from taking the elf.

Hitting the ranger across the face, the orc laughed as he dragged the paralyzed elf towards its master. Throwing Legolas in front of Freca, the orc retreated into the throng of its regiment.

Legolas could only moan in pain, and try to curl into himself. Realizing that he was paralyzed completely from the waist down, the immortal prince moaned again. Feeling desperation mounting within him, Legolas did not look up to the Mouth of Sauron.

Freca laughed softly, and knelt down next to the trembling elf. Looking up to Aragorn as he spoke, his grin grew as Dúnhere came up behind the ranger and grabbed the tops of his arms. The other man was too weak to resist, and all he could do was watch as Freca again tormented his best friend.

"So, Prince Legolas, it seems that Dúnhere has done a better job on you than I had thought." Legolas did not look up at him, but only held his midsection as waves of pain rolled over him. He was concentrating on merely staying conscious, and not to expel the contents of his stomach.

Freca noticed, but did not comment on that just yet. Yanking Legolas to his feet, he was somewhat surprised when the elf immediately collapsed with a cry.

"Stop it! He can't..." Aragorn tried to deter the evil man, but Dúnhere's fist connecting with his face stopped any other comment.

The Mouth of Sauron looked to the leader of the hill men, and he glared stonily. Not speaking, he rolled his eyes, and motioned to a couple of the closest hill men. Three walked over, and held up the elf.

Freca stepped backwards for a moment, and began to pull an item from his pocket. Looking to the elf and ranger, he allowed the brass to shine in the firelight, and made sure that both could tell what the device was.

Aragorn's eyes widened considerably, and he looked frantically to Legolas to gauge his reaction. The elf only looked to the brass knuckles, but did not show an outward expression. Instead, he closed his blue eyes, seemingly so he would not have to look.

Freca placed the weapon made of an alloy on his right hand, and twirled his hand around; admiring the simple beauty of such a weapon. Looking back to his two enemies, he put on a pleasant expression.

"One would not think that such a small thing could do so much damage." Twirling his hand around a little more, the dark haired man stepped closer to the captive elf. "Bones could break with only one hit, blood drawn at once, and who could ever know what would happen if someone were hit in vital areas?"

From the side, Aragorn had renewed his struggling against Dúnhere, and more men were required to hold the fighting ranger. The mortal knew that Freca would injure Legolas more than anything else that had been done to him, and recognized that it would probably harm the elf beyond aid.

Legolas, not even acknowledging his friend's strife, only looked to the demented man with dead eyes. But, his questioning startled everyone, even the ranger. "How did it feel to murder innocent elves?" Freca's smile dropped a little, but Legolas went on without noticing.

"How did it feel to ruin the survivors' lives? How about ruining my **_best friend's_ **life!" his voice did not rise, but the ferocity of his tone amazed Freca. Lunging forward with his left hand extended, the human grasped the blonde locks, and forcefully shoved Legolas' head back.

Freca looked as if he were visibly trying to restrain himself from hitting Legolas more, and after a minute of just breathing heavily and looking into the elf's eyes, he slowly relaxed and backed off a little. Straightening his black tunic and robes, he turned back to the bound elven prince.

"Only one last thing, Elf." Then, he looked to Aragorn for the last part, wanting to see the ranger's reaction to his threat. "And, the Heir of Isildur will watch every minute of it." Legolas finally allowed his emotions to show, but it was only in worry for the ranger. He knew first hand what it felt like to watch a loved one tortured, and noted with sympathy how Aragorn would be forced to watch for a second time in a row.

Aragorn had the direct response that Freca had been waiting for. Lurching forward against the grips of his captors, the dúnadan fought to reach his friend. "Freca! Haven't we gone through enough? You have no reason to want him, for it was not his fault what happened thirty years ago! I was the one who supplied the evidence to my father, and I was the one who constructed your fall! Legolas was there for Roth, nothing more!"

The Mouth of Sauron looked to Aragorn, feelings between boredom and amusement going through him. He had the ranger exactly where he had always wanted him. Begging and pleading, willing to do anything for Freca. Just to save one elf's life.

"You'll be royalty soon, Aragorn. You must learn when to make sacrifices." Smirking, he turned away from the ranger, and balled his fingers into a fist. Stepping closer to Legolas, he readied himself.

**:0Ж0:**

Slipping closer and closer to the camp, Anders was secretly alarmed when he could spot no lookouts among the shore or trees. That meant that whoever had devised this was very confident over the security of their prisoners.

Noticing the sun beginning to dip, he knew that now was the time to strike. Seeing his father drawing closer, he waved Halbarad over.

"Father, I don't know what to do! We don't know where Strider and Prince Legolas are! If we make even one mistake..." Halbarad cut off the anxious ramblings of his son, and placed a strong hand on his broad shoulder.

"Strider will understand a rescue attempt when he sees one. If it is within his power, he will protect himself and the prince." Anders nodded, and then looked around.

"Where are they?" but, horrifyingly, he was answered.

"LEGOLAS! NO!" Strider's screams echoed throughout the trees, and Anders's head snapped up to lock gazes with his father. Motioning to his men, the rangers took off into the trees, praying to the Valar that they were not too late.

**:0Ж0:**

Freca struck quickly, and his fist plowed into the side of Legolas' head. The brass knuckles connected with the elf's temple, and snapped Legolas' head to the side. The immortal did not even remain in the men's grasps that were keeping him up, and he folded to the ground. Landing on his stomach, his eyes closed, Legolas was completely out of it. Blood ran down his ashen features, and it was quite obvious to all around that the elf had received serious injury.

Unknowing to everything but the sight of his motionless friend, Aragorn was not even aware of the screams that escaped his throat. Not even fighting against the men holding him any longer, all he could do was stare in complete horror.

No, this could not be happening! No!

Freca smiled, and shook his fist as if he had hurt it with the power behind his swing. Walking over to Aragorn, he wiped the blood from his knuckles onto the pale face. Smiling as Aragorn seemed to cringe away from the evidence of his friend's suffering, Freca gently dropped the brass knuckles into his pocket.

Not even nodding or gesturing to Dúnhere, the ambassador from Mordor smiled with satisfaction as the hill man released the heir.

"Now, to deal with you."

**:0Ж0:**

Anders whistled low but fast as a signal to his men, informing the archers to fall into position. Not looking to his father beside him, or to Kalmoth that had come up beside him, Anders raced to the shore and the firelight shining on the water.

Seeing the man in the center, their chieftain, the son of Halbarad unsheathed his sword. Not giving any warning to their enemies, the rangers under the sanction of Aragorn, son of Arathorn, struck.

**:0Ж0:**

Aragorn stared Freca full in the face, and did not flinch. Anger and hatred shone from the gray depths, but the Mouth of Sauron only found the other's anger funny.

"I know how much you want to kill me, Estel. Oh, how I know." Pulling a strange looking dagger from the back of his belt, Freca twirled it between his fingers. Looking back at the ranger, he could not help but smile broadly.

"Legolas had no idea what he was talking about. I feel nothing about killing those elves. That was just a little sport. I wanted to see how many I could kill before I was caught. Obviously, I was good, if the elves that raised you suspected you above any one else." Aragorn didn't move, but took deep breaths, clenching his fists over and over again.

Before he could say or do anything, Aragorn's head shot up; hearing light footsteps behind them. Seeing one of his men in the trees, the ranger smiled in relief, and looked defiantly to Freca.

"It matters not what happened, or how you outsmarted most of the elves of Rivendell. You will get your punishment, of that you can be certain." Freca seemed a little mystified at Aragorn's smug look, but then looked over Dúnhere's shoulder. Seeing Anders and Halbarad with many of the other rangers rushing at them, he gave a hurried command.

"Get your weapons! We're under attack!" but, the orcs' and hill men's weapons were not near them. As they had grown so assured that no one would find them, and that they were merely watching some sport, none had brought their armaments.

Tossing an extra sword to Dúnhere, Freca sheathed his dagger and ignored Aragorn for the time being. Meeting Halbarad with crossed blades, the Mouth of Sauron sneered at the other man. Pushing back with all his strength, Freca forced the dúnadan backwards, and the fight commenced.

Anders had come face-to-face with Dúnhere, and the two younger men circled one another. The leader of the hill men sneered at the ranger, and then attacked first with a blow that should have cut Anders in half, but the other man blocked and twisted.

Their blades encountered each other in an intricate dance that would decide life or death for both the winner and the loser. Anders had somewhat of an advantage after being trained by elves and Strider, but Dúnhere's moves made up for that by being quick. The two were practically evenly matched, and it would be a narrow escape for either.

Aragorn saw his men fighting against the orcs and hill men, and smiled. Knowing that the rangers would have it under control, the man hobbled as fast as he could to Legolas' side. Gently checking over the elf's temple, he trembled as he saw the blood streaming from the immortal's body.

"Legolas? Mellon nín? By the Valar, answer me!" his demands were met with silence, and Aragorn could not withhold a sob. Weeping, the ranger gathered his friend in his arms, and he put his chin on Legolas' motionless head. Staying there for a moment, he didn't care what happened to him at this point.

Kalmoth had been fighting some of the orcs, but heard Aragorn's cries for his friend. Moving over to his chieftain, he was scared at seeing his leader so... human. All the time, Strider was so strong and confident; he always led the rangers with a good hand and wisdom. Kalmoth had constantly looked up to the leader of the Dúnedain, and it had seemed that Aragorn was beyond any of them. But, seeing him like this, grieving over a friend, Kalmoth was reminded of when his own brother had been killed.

Shaking himself, Kalmoth was able to block a blow from a returning hill man. Some had returned to their camp for their weapons, and were better prepared. Now, he realized that he was needed to defend Strider and Prince Legolas.

Parrying a blow, he sliced and watched as his foe dropped. Yelling over his shoulder, he continued to fight. "Strider! You need to get the prince out of here!" not hearing movement behind him, the young man almost groaned in frustration. "Strider!" he sliced across a hill man's midsection, and then spun around to look to his leader. "Get Legolas out of here!" Aragorn's eyes slowly drifted up to him, and Kalmoth could plainly see the pain and agony embedded in their gray depths.

"Go, Kalmoth. Leave." Strider's deadened words shocked the young dúnadan, and he almost didn't turn in time to block a blow aimed for his back. Not responding, he looked over to Halbarad and Anders, ready to ask for help.

Seeing the father and son pair locked in battle with their own opponents, Kalmoth nearly threw up his hands in surrender. Finishing off the enemy in front of him, the young man dropped down to kneel next to his chieftain.

Placing a hand on the other man's biceps, Kalmoth again gained Aragorn's attention. "The prince isn't dead yet, Strider. We can still save him. The camp isn't that far, we can get him and you there to be healed." Aragorn's eyes slowly lost their glazed and helpless look, and steely determination shone.

"You're right, Kalmoth. By that Valar, you're right!" gently examining Legolas' critical wounds again, the ranger looked up to Kalmoth. "I might need your help. Freca and the hill men took my weapons, and I don't know where they put them." The younger dúnadan nodded, and stood. Looking around, he parried an oncoming hill man's sword, and then began to fight furiously.

From the side, Freca finally managed a winning blow against Halbarad. Hitting the other man across the chest with his blade, he could not help but smile as the ranger collapsed to his knees with a surprised cry. About to plunge his long-sword into his opponent's chest, Freca's head jerked up as he heard Kalmoth's cries to Aragorn. Smiling, he turned back to the second-in-command of the Dúnedain of the north.

Switching to the hilt, Freca hit the other man across the head. Halbarad dropped to the ground, senseless.

Starting towards where Kalmoth was defending the ailing ranger and prince, Freca reached his hand behind his back for the dagger he always kept within his belt. This was a special dagger, distinctly designed in Mordor for the worst damage possible. Freca knew that he could not allow the Heir of Isildur to leave here alive.

Ending up behind Kalmoth, the Mouth of Sauron ended up catching the younger man's sword arm as the dúnadan swung around to clobber his newest enemy. Smiling cruelly, Freca stabbed Kalmoth in the side, and then shoved the young man towards the direction of where Dúnhere was fighting Anders.

Stalking silently towards Aragorn, Freca unconsciously wiped Kalmoth's blood on his pants. He wanted only the heir's blood to stain this dagger.

**:0Ж0:**

Aragorn stood up unsteadily, trusting young Kalmoth to defend Legolas and himself.

Reaching down to lift the coma-like prince into his arms, Aragorn was surprised when a hand yanked him around. Before he could do or say anything, a dagger was plunged deep into the left side of his unprotected belly.

His mouth forming into a silent cry, the ranger's face screwed up against the newest form of pain. Looking into Freca's unmerciful eyes, Aragorn wasn't astonished when the Mouth of Sauron moved closer to him; digging the dagger even more into his abused body. But, when Freca's smile grew to unreachable heights, the ranger was a little rattled.

Twisting the small blade for good measure, Freca's thumb moved for the nearly concealed lever under the hilt. Pushing the lever located there, his delight increased as he read the agony manifesting into the lines of Aragorn's face.

Aragorn couldn't keep from crying out as he felt the apparatus's function. Within his abdomen, the dagger's blade had suddenly shifted, and it seemed as if the blade had split in half. Tearing through skin even more, Aragorn sagged against Freca as the pain swamped him. Giving a small gasp, he closed his eyes against the anguish, and could sense the other's amusement.

Again twisting the dagger, Freca waited until Aragorn's eyes opened once more. Inspecting the ranger's pain-glazed eyes, the Mouth of Sauron's mouth curled up.

"I hope you rot, _Estel_." His face got even closer, his desire to cause Aragorn even more emotional pain driving him. "And, I want you to suffer in the knowledge that you failed. Not only have I killed you and your precious elf prince, but I'm going after Rivendell. Your father and brothers will kneel at my feet and beg for mercy before I end their pitiful lives." Aragorn's eyes widened in horror, and he moved for Freca.

Freca twisted the blade with the double blades within Aragorn's body, and the dúnadan's knees finally collapsed against the onslaught of pain. Reluctantly holding on to Freca to keep partially up right, the ranger attempted to dissuade the evil commander's plans.

"Don't! Oh, Blessed Valar, my father did nothing! My brothers weren't even in Rivendell when it happened! Please, I'll beg for their lives, just don't go to Rivendell!" his breathing was becoming labored, and his vision swam. The dagger being embedded into his stomach was causing an unbelievable agony, and Aragorn knew that he would not last much longer unless he somehow got away from Freca, the hill men, and the orcs.

Falling all the way to his knees, and pulling on Freca, he tried to get the man to let go of the hold he had on the hilt. But, Freca was determined not to lose his favorite dagger.

"No, no, no, dear, Estel. I will be going to Rivendell, and I will destroy the Elven haven. Who knows, I might even find a ring of power." Aragorn's faced paled further, and Freca smirked.

"I remember standing at the door to your _father's_ study, and hearing all the interesting talk swirling about. I know that Lord Elrond Peredhil possesses a ring of power, and I will retrieve it for my master." With this, he changed the position of the dagger a final time, and then retracted the second blade back into the first. Yanking the weapon from Aragorn's stomach, he shoved the ranger backwards, so that the man was unable to get up.

Laughing, Freca turned and walked away, leaving a dying Aragorn and Legolas in his wake.

**:0Ж0:**

From where he was fighting Dúnhere, Anders heard his father's cry. Keeping himself from going to Halbarad's aid, the young man parried a blow meant for his midsection; following up with a strike for Dúnhere's head. The leader of the hill men ducked, and then went for an upper cross with his fist. Hitting the side of Anders's head, the blow dazed him for a moment.

Shaking his head to clear it, he instinctively threw up his sword as a shape came towards him. The figure hit him, nearly throwing him to the ground.

"Anders..." the pain-filled voice brought the dúnadan's attention, and the son of Halbarad was shocked to see Kalmoth in his arms.

Seeing the blood staining one side of the younger man's torso, Anders ignored Dúnhere for the time being.

"The leader is going after Strider and Prince Legolas. I think he already did something." Dread filling within his stomach, Anders's gaze quickly swept over the camp and the battle. Not seeing Aragorn or the feared Mouth of Sauron, the young ranger looked back to one he considered as a younger brother.

"Kalmoth, you must run." Looking around, and noticing the leader of the hill men beginning to come towards him again, Anders gently pushed the wounded teen in the direction of some of the other Dúnedain. "Find one of the others and have him take you back to camp. Go!" then, he turned to face Dúnhere.

Kalmoth held a trembling hand to his side, indecisive in how he wanted to act next. He knew that his fellow rangers needed the help, and he was the only one besides Anders that noticed the danger their chieftain was in. He couldn't leave now, not when the others needed him.

_I promised Mother and Father that nothing would happen. I gave my word. _So, making his decision, he slowly sheathed his sword, and then staggered as fast as he could for the surrounding woods. He would most likely hate himself later if something happened to Strider, but Kalmoth had promised his parents that after the death of his brother he would not place himself in any unnecessary danger. Even against his own wishes, he would not be the one to cause his parents that anguish again. Not when he was their only child.

**:0Ж0:**

Lying on the grass, it quickly becoming stained crimson, Aragorn fought with his body over rising. He knew that he needed to get Legolas and himself away from here, but his overly abused body would not obey any command his brain fed it.

His eyes towards the sky, it almost seemed as if for just a moment, the sounds of fighting faded. It was as if he and Legolas were not in any pressing danger, and the two were merely camping in their favorite place by the large waterfall in Rivendell. Closing his eyes, the pain drifted away and he relaxed. But, his minute peace was harshly interrupted when a body fell heavily beside him.

Opening his eyes, he noticed the pain-pinched features of Anders. Aragorn finally pushed his body enough to rise to his elbows, and stare at his friend's son's attacker. Pushing himself beyond a limit he hadn't felt in years, Aragorn picked up Anders's fallen sword, and faced the charging hill man.

Dúnhere was surprised to see the ranger stand, let alone hold a blade, but he just smiled at the new development. Stopping, he raised his sword in a mock salute, and his mouth moved to form a snarl.

"I will settle the score in Rivendell, scum. With or without you there; I'll settle the score somehow. You can bet your life on it." Then, turning, he ran off to join Freca.

Aragorn dropped the sword after the momentary peril passed, and then he collapsed next to Anders. "Anders, are you alright? Where are you injured?" the young dúnadan looked up to his leader and winced.

"My leg. He... stabbed it pretty bad." Aragorn leaned over and weakly started to rip the trouser leg. But, his own stab wound got the better of him, and he blacked out for a second.

Waking up to Anders kneeling over him, Aragorn shook his head and tried to regain his somewhat stooping position, but his head began to swim.

"Take it easy, Strider." Aragorn shook his head.

"No, I must get Legolas out of here." Anders nodded, and helped Aragorn to his feet, his own about ready to give out. Testing the weight, he then looked up sharply to Aragorn.

"Take Legolas, and escape to the ruins. Freca probably assumes you are dead, and may not try to find you. Wait for us as long as you can, and I will go back to get help." Aragorn approved of the plan, and the two grasped forearms. "May the Valar protect you."

"And, you, young one." Anders nodded, and then silently moved away as fast as his wounded leg could carry him.

Aragorn watched him go, and then spun around to get Legolas. Staggering, he grabbed the nearest tree, and hung on as he attempted to recover his strength. After just a few moments, he moved away and bent down to pick up Legolas in his arms.

Cradling the injured prince to his chest, Aragorn took a few unsteady steps and moved forward. Nearly gaining the woods, his heart chilled as he heard a bellowed orc voice, "The prisoners are escaping!" Thundering footsteps began to give chase, and Aragorn sped up.

Reaching the woods, the ranger nearly fell over branches and logs hidden in the residing sun. The orcs were drawing closer, and Aragorn knew that he would have relative safety if he reached the ruins in time to hide.

Nearly dropping Legolas, the ranger fixed his grasp and kept moving. Going up a hill and then down the other side, Aragorn almost ended up rolling down as his legs threatened to give out. Praying to the Valar to keep him moving, Aragorn faltered at the end. He was a little amazed that he had lost his way, so he took off for the nearest looking 'road'.

Finding one buried underneath the leaves and fallen branches, Aragorn could hear and feel the orcs drawing closer as he raced for freedom.

**:0Ж0:**

Halbarad regained consciousness as the orcs began to race after Aragorn and Legolas. He heard Freca's stern orders and the panicked cries as the rangers were defeated. Climbing unsteadily to his feet, the ranger looked around for his son. Not seeing Anders anywhere in the vicinity, Halbarad moved forward, holding a hand to his aching head. Searching for his son, he was surprised when he walked by a tree.

A hand jumped out and grabbed him by the arm, pulling him into the growing shadows of a fine oak. Looking around, reaching for his blade, Strider's second-in-command spun to see his son.

"Anders!" seeing the blood staining his leg, his worry grew. "My son, what happened? Are you alright? Where are Strider and Legolas?"

Anders ignored his father's questions, but his eyes grew at the implications of his leader's danger. "We must hurry back to the camp and get reinforcements. Strider and Legolas will be in the ruins, but we must get help." Looking deep into Halbarad's eyes, his words rang with a hidden warning. "They're dying, Father. We have to get help."

Halbarad nodded, and wrapped Anders's left arm around his shoulders. Putting his hand to his son's waist, the two headed off as fast as they could for the ranger camp.

**:0Ж0:**

The sun set, the mounting colors of orange, purple, and yellow showed clearly in the skies. It was a remarkable sight, one that filled a being with instant calm and serenity. However, appearances were often deceiving.

A shivering silence filled the air and the atmosphere around Amon Hen held danger and warning. The despair and helplessness permeate every atom of the milieu, and the trees trembled with the feelings penetrating their sensitive souls.

_Save the immortal one. Save our prince. _The trees' quiet murmurs resonated throughout the wood and their branches shook with fright. _Help the firstborn to live._

The reason for their distress was evident as Aragorn ran awkwardly across the uneven ground. Urgent and evil footsteps followed as the human attempted to keep him and his friend up and moving. Recapture would mean death for the two, as the one cradled in the man's arms was near death as it was.

"Please, Legolas, hold on, mellon nín! You have to hold on!" whispered words drifted from the man's lips, and then a small sob of relief as they finally reached the ruins. Carrying his motionless friend more into the shelter, the ranger moved to the darkest corner, and gently sat down.

Leaning up against the wall, he nearly halted his breathing as he waited for the sounds of their pursuers to fade away. Instead, a strong voice broke through the coming darkness, causing a shiver to run down Aragorn's spine.

"Forget the elf and the ranger. They will die within days. We must move for Imladris whilst they are unprepared. Move out!" Freca sat on top of his dark mount, staring unblinkingly into the fading light. A slight smile drew across his young features, and a knowing nod began.

"You will never be able to save him." The younger man's sneering words sank into Aragorn's heart, and feelings of doubt settled. Hearing the hooves of the beast of burden receding, the ranger allowed his guard to fall.

Sighing in short lived relief, the ranger leaned his head back against the wall, his eyes searching the sky for the Light of Eärendil. Finding the star provided little comfort, and his eyes fell back down to the broken figure held within his strong arms.

Legolas looked even worse in the growing darkness, and the blood from his temple wound coated his hair to the side of his head. His body did not tremble from the drawing cooler temperatures of night, and that worried his friend. Legolas was not responding to any stimuli from the world, and Aragorn was concerned beyond words. The poor elf was so pale it was almost as if the firstborn had already surrendered his soul to the Halls of Mandos.

Gently holding his friend in his arms, Aragorn leaned forward to place his chin on top of Legolas' head. Tears streamed down his tanned face, and sobs began to shake his form.

"I'm sorry, mellon nín. None of this was supposed to happen. I tried everything, but no matter what I did, it wasn't enough."

**:0Ж0:**


	5. To Rivendell

Heads shot up as a bowl crashed to the floor. Elladan and Elrohir looked up sharply to their father as he seemed to sag against the table.

"Ada!" the two cried, and got up to rush to Elrond's side. The twins were alarmed to see all the color drained from Elrond's face, and they were concerned as his breathing increased laboriously. He was clutching the ends of the table with white-knuckled fists, and his eyes were staring straight ahead at nothing.

Elladan and Elrohir glanced to each other worriedly, and then attempted to get their father's full attention.

"Ada?" the elven lord finally shook himself hard and then nearly jerked as he looked to his twin sons. Focusing his eyes on their identical faces, the half-elf could barely get his words past the ever-growing lump in his throat.

"Estel and Legolas, they are in grave danger! I don't know what, but they are in trouble." Elladan looked to Elrond with a half distressed glance. They both knew of their younger brother's plight, for Elrond had explained everything to them once Aragorn had left for Mirkwood. The twins had been set on going after their little mortal brother, but Elrond had stopped them. For some unexplainable reason, the elven lord had known that he would need his warrior sons with him, in Rivendell.

Elrohir looked to Elladan skeptically and remarked, "Ada, how can you be certain? We know not what has happened to Estel or to Legolas. They could be on their way to Rivendell; we have no way of knowing." Elrond shook his head, adamantly denying his son's assumption.

"No, they are in danger. It seems that the evil that overtook Legolas now has Estel. The only thing is that I have no idea of how to going about rescuing them. I have this feeling that they are not the only ones in jeopardy. We must prepare, my sons, for the enemy is coming."

**:0Ж0:**

Halbarad helped his son keep his balance as they made their way through the brush, both their wounds having been seen to back at the ranger camp. Now, leading a new group of warriors, they had set out to look for their missing chieftain and the elven prince.

"Are you certain you don't know which ruins they went to?" the second-in-command asked once more. Anders almost rolled his eyes, and tried pulling his arm from around his father's shoulders once more. Halbarad kept a steady hand on his son, and continued to pull Anders along. Behind them, the other rangers kept watch for any remnants of the orc company.

Silence reigning for a time, Anders broke it with a simple question filled with meaning.

"How do you think we'll find them, Father?" Halbarad looked over to once of the last ruins they needed to check, and didn't give his son an answer for a long time.

"I'm just hoping for alive right now, Anders. That right now would be a miracle." The younger man didn't say anything else as they drew closer and closer. The darkness was starting to over power the land and the rangers needed to light torches to be able to see. Claiming one, Anders let his father lead as they came to the steps.

Climbing each step painfully, the two finally came to the inside. Waving the torch around, Anders was startled when it came to light on the still bodies of those they were looking for.

"Strider!" crying out, Halbarad braced his only child against a wall as he moved for his best friend's side. Kneeling next to the barely coherent ranger, Halbarad gently brushed back some hair from Aragorn's forehead.

"My friend, speak to me!" Aragorn's eyes fluttered, and he unconsciously drew Legolas closer to his own injured body. Holding his friend as close as he could, he squinted at Halbarad, and then a tired smile stretched across his face.

"Mae Govannen /well met, Halbarad. It is good to see you again. Half expected you to be dead by now." He said jokingly, but that was cut off as violent coughs began to overtake him. Halbarad, a gentle hand resting on the wearied shoulder, looked worriedly to his oldest friend.

"Nay, my friend, it seems that you are mistaken. I am not the one to be worried about this time." Scanning his eyes over his friend's injured body, sadness settled within their depths. "Oh, Strider, what did they do to you?" then, looking down to Legolas, his gaze shot back up to Aragorn.

"Is he...?" Aragorn shook his head as much as he could, and then nearly bent over with the force of his coughs.

"No, Legolas still lives, but just barely." A pleading expression tore across his face, and pulled at the other ranger's heart. "Help him, Halbarad. He is this way because of me. Save him." Then, with those last words, Aragorn's gray eyes rolled to the back of his head, and he passed out.

Halbarad caught him, and looked to one of his rangers behind him. "Take the prince, and make sure you take care of him as if he were one of our own." He then gently placed Legolas into the care of his most trusted warriors, and then turned back to Aragorn. His eyes widened in shock as he saw the blood running from numerous wounds on Aragorn's body, and the severity of the injuries.

Barely moving the remaining tunic aside, the ranger was surprised to see the gaping wound in Aragorn's abdomen. Crying out in alarm, Halbarad gathered Aragorn into his arms, and took off for the entrance of the ruins.

Nearly running into Kalmoth as he entered, Halbarad did not give the younger man a second glance, nor wonder as to his whereabouts. Instead, he barked an order.

"Help Anders back to the camp." Then, he hurried as fast as his legs could carry him towards the ranger encampment.

Kalmoth was not surprised at the harshness of Halbarad's order, but at the state Strider had found himself in once again. Sighing, he walked in further, and saw Anders leaning shakily against one of the crumbled pillars. Standing beside the older man, Kalmoth gently placed a hand on Anders's shoulder. Halbarad's son jerked noticeably.

Turning to face Kalmoth, he could barely keep back a cry. "Oh, Kalmoth, did you see them? It will be a miracle from the Valar if they make it past tonight." Anders's silent sobs shook Kalmoth, and he put a comforting arm around the other man's shoulders.

"Everything will be okay, Anders. You'll see. Strider and Prince Legolas are the most resilient people I know, and nothing like this will keep them down. Nothing." Anders looked to Kalmoth, and indicated that he wanted to leave.

Heading for the stairs, Kalmoth barely heard Anders's response.

"No, and nothing will keep Estel from defending Rivendell, either."

**:0Ж0:**

In the healers' tent, Anders waited impatiently as the head healer carefully looked over his leg. The son of Halbarad was in a foul mood, for he had been forced by his own father and men to see the healers. They had literally dragged him in here for treatment. Opposite to what his men and Halbarad thought, Anders was not trying to avoid the healers for his own benefit or not. No, he wanted to be out of the way so the trained medical people could have their room with Strider and Legolas without anyone else to hinder them.

However, after nearly three days, Anders's leg had become badly infected. Not even being able to walk on the appendage any longer, Anders had been unable to report for sentry duty, so therefore everyone had known that something was wrong with his or her young ranger friend.

Halbarad had felt guilty for neglecting his son's wound in his worry for his oldest friend. So, now, the second-in-command had forced Anders to see the healers. That led to Anders foul mood in dealing with the rangers' healers.

"No! Get away, its fine!" he finally barked as one yanked his injured leg in the wrong way so that excruciating waves of agony went up his leg. "I will take care of my own wounds without you all trying to kill me as I heal!"

The healers did not look concerned in the slightest at Anders's exploding anger. They were used to the strong rangers trying to appear as if any of their injuries did not concern them. Frankly, they wanted to hurry up and finish treating him so that they could get back to their other, _cooperating_, patients. Of course, the only reason Aragorn, son of Arathorn, and Prince Legolas Greenleaf were listening was the unconscious states both were currently trapped within.

Anders gave up trying to fight, and looked sadly to the cots within the tent. Aragorn and Legolas lay silently on their own beds, and neither one-showed signs of waking.

Aragorn was suffering from blood loss from the deep wound in his stomach, and fighting infection from the horrendous wounds to his legs. Anders was still amazed that his chieftain had been able to get the elven prince and himself to the ruins without being caught by the enemy. It was surprising that Aragorn had been able to walk at all with the wounds to his legs.

Legolas, though, gave them all cause for worry. The elf had been unconscious since before they had stormed the camp of the orcs and hill men, and had not as much twitched. The gaping wound from Freca's brass knuckles caused the healers to fear for the immortal being's life. Nevertheless, the wounds decorating every other part of Legolas' strong body weakened it enough that the elf's natural healing abilities were not functioning properly.

Legolas' back was obviously injured severely. The swelling around the small of the elf's back alarmed the rangers' healers, and they were dismayed at being unable to try to do something so that Legolas would not lose the use of his lower body.

The elf's arm was also cause for worry, but it, they could do something about. Stitching the wounds together and repairing the ripped tissue and muscle, the healers were confident that the elf would not lose his left arm as well, and be able to use it for the archery he loved.

The internal bleeding had been dealt with, too, as well as the other wounds that the hill men and orcs had inflicted on their prisoner. The healers had been amazed that the elf had lived. Unfortunately, it looked as if Legolas would not regain consciousness for quite some time.

Anders looked up from the overly pale face of the elf prince, and his eyes shot to the waking figure of Aragorn. Nearly knocking the healers over in his haste, Anders rushed to Strider's side.

"Strider? Are you awake?" he asked anxiously. Aragorn's gray eyes showed his grogginess, and he could barely focus on the son of one of his closest friends. Smiling uneasily, Aragorn raised himself off the cot he was laying on, and looked right to the other ranger.

"What happened? Where are..." then, everything came back to him in a rush. "Legolas!" looking around panicked for his best friend, the ranger did not relax when his eyes came to rest on the battered form of Legolas.

"Oh, mellon nín." Attempting to climb off the bed, he cried out as his stomach muscles protested against movement. Anders gently pushed him down.

"Strider, you practically got your insides torn apart. Rest and heal; Legolas will be fine." Aragorn looked to him, but conceded for the time being. He knew as a healer that his own injuries would prohibit him greatly in the care of his best friend, and that the healers of the rangers would do the best job they could for the elf. Right now, Legolas' wounds would have to bear being treated by the second race.

Still sitting on the edge of his cot, Aragorn's head snapped up, as he looked right up to Anders. For the younger man's part, he was startled when Strider's suddenly piercing gaze locked on him. Unknowingly shifting under the powerful gray eyes, Anders eyes flicked to the ground.

"What is it you need, Strider?" Aragorn didn't answer, merely began to climb to his feet again. Anders groaned in exasperation, and fought against his weakened leader to get him back on the bed.

"Anders! You must let me up! I need to get to Rivendell to warn my father! Freca marches for the haven, and I must help. My family needs me!" Aragorn's pleading voice broke through the younger ranger's barrier, but Anders was adamant not to let his leader past him.

"Strider, I understand, but you must stay down! You've been seriously injured, and you cannot just get up after a few days!" Aragorn's whole body shook at that, and he looked to Anders sharply.

"A few days!" jumping to his feet, Aragorn put a hand to his head as his whole body swayed at the action. Ignoring the panicked cries of the healers and Anders, he looked around for his sword or clothes, forgetting that both were now gone due to the orcs and hill men.

Finally remembering, he looked to Anders. "Get me clothes and a horse. I need to leave immediately." The younger ranger only crossed his arms over his chest and defiantly stared Aragorn down.

"With all due respect, sir; no." Strider started again, but glared at Halbarad's son.

"I am still your chieftain, young one. Do not forget that." Anders nodded courteously, but did not move.

"And I am sure you know that if my father were in here, he wouldn't let you go either." Aragorn's eyes showed his disapproval, but then moved to someone standing behind Anders.

His eyes softened, and a smile began to creep onto his face. "It seems that your son inherited your stubbornness, Friend." A joyous laugh made Anders spin around, and his face flushed at having been caught by his father.

"Father, I..." Halbarad held up a hand, and halted all further babble and explanations.

"I agree with you, my son, but Aragorn is right; we cannot hold him here." Looking pointedly to Strider, he placed a strong hand on Anders's shoulder. "No matter how foolish and reckless his actions may be." Then, a devilish look crossed his weathered face.

"Although, if I were like your father, I would just drug your tea and **_make_** you stay a little longer." The smile faded from Aragorn's face.

"That is who I am planning to save so that he may have the opportunity to do the same to me many, many years from now." Halbarad stepped forward, and slapped a hand upon Aragorn's shoulder.

"Go with my blessings, mellon nín. And, do come back soon." Aragorn returned the gesture, even if he did grimace a little from his hurts. However, his mood returned to somber.

"I still require new clothing and weapons. I need to move swiftly, and I have to **_go_** now." Halbarad nodded, and with his eyes, commanded Anders to make the arrangements.

Turning back to Aragorn, he caught his arm as the other man started to fall. Moving Strider back to the cot, he looked over to Legolas. "What are you going to do with him?"

Also looking over, Aragorn placed a hand over his eyes; trying to lessen the glare of lights before his eyes. "I will leave him here for the time being. If I do not come within the week for him, then move him to Rivendell. Send a messenger ahead when you reach the Bruinen, and wait. I or one of my brothers will meet you, and then we will watch over him." Moving a pained looked over to his best friend, Aragorn could feel the emotions welling up within him once more.

"This is my doing, Halbarad. This is my fault." The second-in-command said nothing, only rolled his eyes with exasperation. He was familiar with the dúnadan's usual mood of taking the blame for something, but this was taking it a bit too far.

"Strider, I will not say that maybe you should have been more cautious with the whole situation, but it is not my or your doing." Looking to Aragorn out of the corner of his eye, Halbarad sat down beside the older man, and casually swung his feet.

"Do you blame Elladan for your first dying?" he asked. Aragorn's eyes shot up, and he looked stunned, almost as if Halbarad had shot him.

"Of course not! There was no way he could have stopped Këan from killing me. He was half-dead himself!" Halbarad took a deep breath, seeing that his leader wasn't getting the example.

"Strider, you do not blame Elladan, and Legolas does not blame you. You did nothing wrong, and it was not your fault that Freca chose the prince to exact his revenge on you. What he did was despicable, but you did not help him plan it. You are just as much a victim in this as Legolas, if not more. You both will remember this for the rest of your lives, and will one day make Freca pay for all the atrocities he has committed, and I believe that as strongly as I believe in the Valar and Eru. The Mouth of Sauron will get his just deserves, and it will befit him the best way. Just wait and see."

Aragorn patted Halbarad's hand, but then looked back to Legolas. "Aye, my friend, but what good does that Legolas? He may be forever restricted to a bed because Freca chose to wound an elven male the best way he knew how. He tried to take away his mobility, his freedom. That may forever traumatize Legolas, and I don't know if he'll want to make it in the end."

Halbarad helped Aragorn to walk to Legolas' bedside, and Aragorn delicately brushed hair from the elf's pasty forehead. Leaning closer to his elven friend, the human muttered, "I will find you again. You won't stay this way forever, of that you can be sure." Running a hand down Legolas' cheek, Aragorn was dismayed when the touch produced no reaction.

Sighing, he looked to Halbarad. "Let's get on with this."

**:0Ж0:**

Elladan and Elrohir walked through the Rivendell gardens, carefully inspecting every part of the wonderful flowers their mother had planted over two centuries ago. Quite soon, though, even the peaceful gardens of Imladris would not be able to lend the sons of Elrond calm and serenity. A battle was brewing, and it was steadily approaching the fair lands.

Right now, the twins were patrolling in a sense. But, this was no duty bound surveillance. No, Elladan and Elrohir were here to brood. At the time, Elrohir was unable to reach his older brother. It appeared that Elladan was guilt-ridden over not being able to help their baby brother, and he was taking it out on everyone around him. Even his own twin was not safe from the wrath of the older elf.

Elrohir let Elladan get ahead of him, and just watched his brother's back. So much had gone on in the near month since Estel had gone, but the twins were both worried about the young mortal. Aragorn would forever be their little brother; nothing would change that. Nothing.

Speeding up, Elrohir caught up to Elladan, and turned the other around. "Elladan! I have to speak with you! We've allowed this to continue for almost a month now, but its gotten worse! I know exactly how you feel because Estel's gone, but you cannot just go around snapping at people! He'll come home alright, and he will bring Legolas with him." Elladan only stared to his brother in disbelief. Then, his lips went into a look of surprise.

"You know how I feel! Brother, there is no way you could ever know how I feel! I remember the last time Estel went off for something like this. He ended up dead!" Elladan's fiery gray eyes bore into those of Elrohir's. "You weren't there when he drew his last breath, 'Ro. All I can think about is how I failed him."

Drawing his eyes away, Elladan turned. "I cannot lose him again, Elrohir. I can't." Elrohir stood up behind his brother, and placed a comforting hand on the twin's shoulder.

"Estel is a strong warrior now. He is sixty years old now, Brother, not twenty. Estel knows how to take care of himself and Legolas." Elladan's haunted eyes turned to look at his twin.

"Then why does Father look so scared when he mentions Estel?"

**:0Ж0:**

Urging his horse to go faster, Aragorn nearly sighed in relief when he saw the bordering trees of his childhood home.

Nearly a week had passed since he'd left the ranger camp, and he and his faithful steed had made good time for the elven haven. However, not once had they seen evidence of the orc/ hill men army headed for Rivendell.

Halting on the outskirts, Aragorn was startled when he couldn't see his father's sentries. Usually, the loyal elven guards would have stopped him by now; Elrond's son or not. Now, neither a single call nor bow could be heard.

Slowing his mount down, the ranger allowed the beast to enter the woods at a calm pace. He realized that he was behind the orc army, but there was no need to exert his horse when there was less than a league left to go.

But, as he let the horse's pace slow, he heard the pounding of hooves from behind. Unsheathing his sword and spinning his horse around, Aragorn came face-to-face with Rothinzil of the Mirkwood guard.

Breathing a sigh of relief, Aragorn lowered his sword. Seeing the serious expression on the other's face, the ranger's relief melted rapidly. Sheathing his weapon, the mortal reined his horse up next to the elf's own mount. Looking Rothinzil over, Aragorn finally met the other's hazel eyes.

"Why did Thranduil send you to Rivendell, my friend?" the ranger asked after a minute. The elf's answer did not ease his worries.

"We had heard no word from either you or Lord Elrond. We still fear for the young prince's life." Looking about, Rothinzil noticed that Legolas still was not with them.

"Where is Prince Legolas?" Aragorn's eyes lowered to the ground, and he could not look the elf fully in the eyes.

"He is with the rangers of the north, and should be ready to set out in a couple of days for Rivendell." He swallowed, and then continued. "He's been seriously wounded, Roth, by the Mouth of Sauron." Finally looking up into his old friend's eyes, he finished. "It was Freca, Roth."

The Mirkwood elf's eyes narrowed in anger, and his fists tightened around his horse's reins. "You mean to tell me that monster still lives after all these years?" Aragorn slowly nodded, and then placed a comforting hand on the Noldo elf's shoulder.

"There was no way any of us could have acted against him before this. He's stationed in Mordor, Sauron's right hand commander. He holds the highest rank for a human in the evil lord's army. There was no way anyone could have reached him."

Tears gathered in the hardened hazel eyes, ones that the Mirkwood warrior could not dispel. "After everything he's done, that bastard still lives? How? I thought we had killed him?" Aragorn did not answer, for Rothinzil was not seeking one. Instead, the heartbroken elf was searching for meaning in this.

"That man still lives while the greatest elf I had ever known lies in eternal sleep? What justice is this?" Rothinzil quickly wiped the tears from his eyes, and he straightened in the saddle.

"I will see that he pays for everything he's done; past and present."

**:0Ж0:**

Patrolling the walls, the captain of the guard in Rivendell closely examined the surrounding foliage. Even though orcs and men were not known to sneak up on those of the fairer race, it was not unheard of. Plus, with the needed extra power, all the outermost sentries had been stationed closer to the gates for protection and acting as a cavalry. Therefore, the elves on the wall had to watch even more closely. There were no scouts to warn them of approaching danger.

Looking over the haven on either side of the wall, the commander looked towards the heavens, wishing for guidance. "Oh, sir, what would you do?" whispering out loud, the elf was not expecting an answer.

"He would never give up, and he would fight to the death for the well-being of his men. Never forget how selfless he was." Spinning around, the elf saw the outlined form of Lord Elrond drawing closer.

Dropping into a bow, the captain was nervous as his lord came even closer.

Elrond grasped the railing of the wall, and gestured for the captain to join him. The other elf only did after a moment of hesitation. Standing next to his lord, the captain waited for the older elf to begin.

"It's been over thirty years, but I can still remember how he looked as he faced a battle." The captain listened intently as Elrond shared his memories of his former commander. "He was like a son to me, forever prancing around with the twins. Two of them could never be alone; the third would be somewhere close. Rivendell named them 'the three terrors'. Not one could be referenced without the other two." Looking to his commander, Elrond smiled reassuringly.

"He trained you as best he could, and you will not fail. Do not see insecurities in your own command, and do not try to measure his wisdom against your own. You are a strong and capable leader, and you will not let Imladris down." The captain smiled, and looked out over the trees.

About to respond, he halted in mid-thought as a saw a disguised movement in the trees. Knowing that it was not one of his men right away, the captain raced past his lord to the bell hanging next to the doorway of the wall.

Ringing the warning bell as loudly as he could, he yelled in Elvish to his men.

"Prepare the archers!" he then ran back to Lord Elrond and ushered the older elf down the stairs. "No disrespect, heru nín /my lord, but I need you out of danger for the time being." Elrond did not question, but merely sped up down the stairs.

But, he stopped halfway down. "Where are my sons?"

**:0Ж0:**

The bell alarmed the citizens of Rivendell, and some of the women began to panic. They had never experienced something like this... not since the murders. Running around, the women struggled to get their children into their homes, and supposedly, out of danger.

The elven soldiers marched towards the front gates, prepared to defend their home till the death. They knew that a greater foe than just orcs awaited them on the other side of the gates, one that dared to challenge the mighty Lord Elrond Peredhil.

Elladan and Elrohir heard the bell from the garden, and barely looked to one another before running towards their posts. Spotting their father and the captain of the guard heading for the main house, the twins sprinted for their father's side.

"Ada! Is it them? Is this it?" their scrambled questions did not startle their father; he was only relieved to see his eldest children.

"Elladan! Elrohir! Aman i Valar /Bless the Valar! I was afraid you'd two gone off to do something reckless." The twins merely shared glances with one another before looking back to Elrond.

"Ada, we will take a small force to enforce right around the gates. If the orcs, Valar forbid, get through, then we'll be the first ones they encounter." Elrond frowned at Elladan's request, but did not say anything for a time.

"Very well, but be careful, my sons. Take those whom you trust the most, and do not let the orcs get the best of you. Remember, there is an evil with them who is strong and cunning. He was wise enough to capture Prince Legolas and lure your brother. There is nothing this one cannot accomplish." The twins nodded, and with the captain, raced for the wall.

Briefly looking to his father's star, Elrond gave a small prayer. _Watch over them tonight, Ada. Do not let my sons stray. _With that thought, the lord then raced for the main house and his own private armory.

**:0Ж0:**

Pushing their mounts to the most neck-breaking speeds, Aragorn and Rothinzil reached the banks of the river Bruinen. Looking over the rushing waters, the human could just see the backs of many running orcs.

"Roth! Look!" the elf did not look, but merely spurred his horse into the river.

"I see them! Hurry, Estel! We must reach Rivendell before the orcs!" following the elf's example, Aragorn urged his horse into the rushing currents of the natural border of Rivendell.

After several moments, the two friends reached the other side of the bank, and then goaded their mounts further.

Going around the orc/ hill men troupe, Aragorn and Rothinzil slowed down so as not to be heard over the jeers and footfalls of the orcs and men. Gaining the head of the group, Rothinzil looked over into the sneering face of the man he had seen in his nightmares for over thirty years.

Pulling his bow from his saddle, he unconsciously strung an arrow before he even fully realized what he was doing. Aragorn's arm stopped him from firing the projectile, but the elf stopped himself before he could do anything rash.

Not matter how many times he had wished Freca dead, he would not give the mortal the honor of dying quickly. For what he did, the Mouth of Sauron deserved the most painful death imaginable. And he, Rothinzil, a Captain of Mirkwood, would be the one to deliver it.

"Roth!" Aragorn hissed, desperately trying to gain the Noldo elf's attention. "Roth, you mustn't!" he cried. Roth only looked to him, and gave a very tight-lipped smile.

"Don't worry, young Dúnadan, Freca does not deserve such a death." Aragorn was neither reassured nor relieved, but at least he had the elf's vow not to kill Freca right at this instance. Getting all those orc and hill men's attentions would be the last thing they wanted to do right now.

Spurring their horses on even more, the human and the elf raced for the mortal's home.

Reaching the gate, he was surprised when he heard the yelling of elves. Nearing the great doors, he quickly spoke the password to gain entry.

As soon as the heavy doors opened, Aragorn and Rothinzil were surprised when over fifty archers' bows were pointed directly at them. Smiling, Aragorn could not help quipping,

"Do I look like an orc to you?" walking closer into the courtyard, Estel and Roth heard from behind as the majestic gate closed.

"No, but you might smell like one occasionally." Suddenly, two identical elves were standing before them, helping the human from his horse.

Elladan did a once over his brother, and then embraced the mortal tightly. Aragorn gave a half-choked groan, but did not pull away. Unfortunately, for him, the other twin noticed his discomfort.

"Estel! What happened this time?" Elladan pulled away from his youngest brother, and noticed the fresh blood on the mortal's clothing. Looking deeply into the other's gray eyes, the elf could only gasp as he saw the physical and emotional pain written within their depths.

Beginning to usher their brother towards the house, Elrohir invited Rothinzil in over his shoulder. Accepting the summons, the Mirkwood elf followed the three sons of Elrond into the Last Homely House.

Walking quickly to their father's study, Elladan and Elrohir did not even bother with knocking and entered the room, their brother between them.

Next to his desk, Elrond turned as he was adjusting the girth on his belt. Seeing his youngest with his twin sons, the elven lord forgot his tasks and rushed over to them.

"Estel! Oh, it warms my heart to see you again!" moving to take Aragorn into a hug, he and the others were surprised as the human collapsed against his father. Pushing Aragorn back a little, Elrond's strong hands on the broad shoulders, the elven lord began to ask his foster son questions.

"What happened, Estel? Where's Legolas?" but, the mortal's eyes were beginning to glaze over, the adrenaline that had been keeping him moving for the past week failing.

"It's...Freca, Ada. Legolas and I couldn't escape. He tortured Legolas and me." A sob caught in the mortal's throat, and he fell further against his father. "I couldn't stop him." For the first time, Elrond could feel the trembling throughout Aragorn's body, and could feel wetness through his robes.

Again pushing Aragorn back, Elrond was appalled to see blood adorning the front of Aragorn's tunic. Catching the ranger as he fully collapsed, the elven lord swept his youngest into his arms, cradling him against his chest.

"Oh, peneth er /young or little one, what did he do to you this time?" carrying the wounded mortal out the door and towards the healers' ward, he spoke over his shoulder to his other two sons. "Get back to the gates and help the others. I will join you as soon as I see to Estel. Rothinzil," the Mirkwood elf continued to stay with them, and trailed behind him.

"I realize what you want, young one, and I understand your reasons. However, I will not allow you to endanger anyone if your personal vendetta gets in the way of defending Imladris. You may challenge Freca, but be careful. You mean a lot to us, too, you know." The younger Noldo elf was touched by the lord's words, but he also grew a little defensive.

"I would never endanger the lives of anyone in Rivendell, and nothing will get in the way of me finishing Freca. I will make sure that the attack loses its leader." Elrond didn't respond, but looked to his sons in warning and as a sign. 'Watch over him. Make sure he doesn't do anything foolish.' His eyes spoke all, and the twins nodded before branching off down the hallway, taking Rothinzil with them.

Reaching the healers' ward, Elrond burst in, alarming the preparing healers. They were getting ready for the upcoming battle, and were only mildly surprised to see their lord carrying in one of his sons. It was common knowledge how much trouble the sons of Elrond got into.

"Get me herbs, bandages, and a new tunic!" he commanded as he laid Aragorn on one of the nearest beds. The mortal, for his part, fought him by trying to get back to his feet.

"Ada, I'm fine..." he protested, but one look from Elrond halted any movement.

"The last time you collapsed in my arms was because of a disease no one knew how to cure. You aren't going to get away with anything right now." Aragorn rolled his eyes, but at least laid back down, relaxing back into the feather-light pillows underneath him.

Elrond ripped open his tunic, and just stared at the open wound on his son's stomach. Running a delicate hand down the torn skin, the elf examined the ripped stitches and the path made by Freca's crazy dagger.

Aragorn drew in his breath, and closed his eyes against the pain the gentle touch invoked. During his weeklong ride, his wounds had festered even more, but the ranger had been unable to do anything about them. His abdomen felt as if every inch were on fire and throbbing with pain and his legs... he could barely feel them from how badly they were infected.

Elrond noticed that Aragorn's mid-section was not his only problem, and he ran his hands down the rest of his son's body. Reaching the top of Aragorn's quadriceps, he cringed in shared pain as the human barely suppressed a cry of absolute agony.

Now that his father had pressed against the infected wounds, Aragorn could not withstand the overwhelming pain the injured muscles and skin were giving off. Closing his eyes even tighter, he didn't even discern the tears that leaked from his eyes.

Choking back a pain-filled sob, he did not even notice as Elrond removed his leggings and placed a blanket over his extremities to get a better look at his son's wounds. However, once the article of clothing was removed, his anger went up a notch at seeing the various scimitar wounds adorning Aragorn's muscled legs.

Going from the top of his quadriceps and then heading down to the ankles, the cuts were deep at the top and then shallow at the ankles. Aragorn's left leg appeared worse than his right, and that was saying a lot. The wounds covering his right leg were deep, and the wound on his upper leg nearly revealed the bone. The condition of his right leg paled in comparison to the condition of his left, though.

Elrond looked to one of the healers as she brought him over athelas and other useful herbs, and he immediately enlisted her help in wrapping and sewing the wounds all over Aragorn's body. Elrond couldn't spend a lot of time with his son at this time due to the coming battle, and he cursed the Mouth of Sauron for doing this to his son and then preventing the elven lord from taking care of him. If only that man had never tricked the rangers into thinking he was one of them!

Aragorn looked up after a time, and could see the dilemma outlined on his father's face. Smiling painfully, he put a hand on Elrond's arm. "Go, Ada, fight and then come back. I will be fine until then." But, his face darkened after a time. "Watch out for Freca and Dúnhere. They know you have a ring of power."

The shock on Elrond's face was not amusing, and Aragorn squeezed his arm reassuringly. "Just don't let the ring show. They cannot get it if they cannot see it." The elf smiled, and lovingly ruffled Aragorn's messy hair.

But, his humor faded as he saw the pain grow. "Estel, what is wrong now?" Aragorn attempted to keep his smile, but the growing pain in his head prohibited such a thought.

"Freca... kept knocking me out. I think he might have given me a concussion." Looking over his son's head, Elrond closed his eyes as his hands encountered a knot on the back of Aragorn's head. Gently exploring the wound, Elrond parted the hair to get a better look.

"It's not a concussion, but it's quite a goose egg you gathered, ion nín /my son/." Aragorn finally chuckled at his father's words, but then took his father's wrists in both of his hands.

"Kel, Ada. Kel dagor ar Elladan and Elrohir /Go, Father. Go fight with Elladan and Elrohir/." Elrond easily got loose from Aragorn's grasp, and cupped the mortal's face in his hands. Looking deep into the gray eyes so much like his own, Elrond smiled down on his son.

"I am going to stay with you for as long as you need me, my son. Your wounds are severe, and you need me. Do not deny that you do." Aragorn did not give a verbal confirmation, but his injuries chose at that moment to spark up even more. Closing his eyes again, he squeezed his father's wrists as tight as he could, trying desperately to dispel the pain running through his body.

Elrond let his son use him as a base, and could only watch with sadness as Aragorn fought through the pain. After a time, the pain finally lessened to a degree that the ranger could release his death-grip upon Elrond's wrists.

Opening his eyes once more, Aragorn felt the tears pricking up again. "Ada, it hurts so much." He whispered, his eyes looking downward in shame. Elrond leaned down and placed his head on top of Aragorn's.

"Iston, ion. Iston /I know, son. I know/." The son of Eärendil whispered to his own son, gently wiping away Aragorn's tears. "The pain won't last for long. I promise." Aragorn nodded, his forehead bumping into his father's.

"I believe you, Ada. Don't worry about that." Elrond smiled, and gently massaged Aragorn's temples.

Then, suddenly, from outside, the sounds of feral shrieking could be heard. The sounds of breaking wood accompanied the screaming, and the calls of Elrond's leading officers sounded throughout the paths.

_"Close them down! Do not let them enter the courtyard!"_ the commands came all the way to the healers' ward, and Elrond's head looked immediately for the door.

Aragorn's gaze followed that of his father's and he could feel the sudden heightened senses coursing through Elrond. "Ada...?" he questioned. Elrond looked back to Aragorn, and now his smile seemed forced.

"I'm sure the captains can handle it. Plus, they have your brothers if something goes wrong." Aragorn did not believe Elrond, and his eyes and face plainly showed his feelings.

"Ada, they need you more than I do right now. Go and be the leader you are." Elrond looked skeptically to his youngest, but then more cries made up his mind. Turning to his master healer, he ordered the physician to keep a close eye on Aragorn, and then hurried to where the female healer had placed the clothes brought for the wounded human.

Bringing the clothing over to the bed, Elrond quickly helped Aragorn dress, and then unsheathed the ranger's borrowed sword, handing the weapon over carefully. "You are the only line of defense back here, my son. We can not afford to draw any elves from the front, and these healers need someone to protect them." Aragorn nodded, and then struggled to sit up. Elrond helped brace him against the headboard, and then stood back.

Just looking over Aragorn, he felt a lump rising in his throat. He knew that Aragorn would be safest here, but Elrond just knew that it would be dangerous to leave his son alone for any amounts of time.

Bending down, he kissed Aragorn on the forehead, and then raced for the gates.

**:0Ж0:**

It had been a week, and no word from Rivendell. Therefore, getting a small caravan together, Halbarad helped some other rangers transport the still unconscious Legolas from the tent to a wagon.

Even after the time since Aragorn had left, the elven prince had remained oblivious to the world around him, and the ranger healers had begun to despair for their chieftain's friend. It seemed that the elf had taken even more serious injury than originally thought, and was the result of his current state.

Halbarad and Anders considered this disappointing in two respects; Aragorn would go into a further depression than they had suspected, and Legolas would be lost to the world. The elven prince was a cherished friend to the rangers, for he was an elf who lived with them occasionally.

Because of his deep love for Aragorn as a brother and friend, the Mirkwood warrior had traveled with the rangers for months at a time. He had helped hunt in the wintertime, and then helped defend against enemies that dared strike against the rangers. The elf was a valued friend to everyone, and he had proven his worth many times over again.

To see Legolas in such a state was heartbreaking, and at the same time, a cruel reminder that once more, the rangers were too late to help two of their own. Halbarad and Anders had heard the reports too late, and had taken action only after the attack had occurred. Aragorn's tortured cries would forever be in their memories as a sign to their failures.

Watching as his men delicately loaded Legolas into a wagon, Halbarad shook his head before looking to his son. Anders's leg still wasn't healed from his stab wound, and he limped as a bad testament to his wound.

Walking up to his father, Anders was ready to argue with Halbarad about letting him go. Opening his mouth to begin the argument, the younger man was surprised when the second-in-command gestured with his finger.

"Get in the wagon or be left behind." Anders smiled happily, and then did as his father said. Halbarad rolled his eyes and then moved for his horse. Mounting, he reined his horse around to look at the rest of the somber caravan.

Nodding, he then led the way towards Imladris and the Peredhil family that awaited their injured friend.

**:0Ж0:**

Elladan pulled his sword from the belly of one orc, and moved to parry a blow from another in quick succession. Barely looking over to his younger brother, who was fighting near him, Elladan yelled, "Have you seen Roth?"

Elrohir ducked a swipe aimed for his head, and then took a moment to answer as a blow for his abdomen forced him to drop to avoid injury. Shooting up, he killed the man aiming for his stomach, and then finally answered his brother.

"I saw him move for the top of the wall. But, that was some time ago." Elladan growled low in his throat as his sword parried and then thrust, killing many orcs and hill men in his path.

The orcs and hill men under the command of Freca, Mouth of Sauron, had broken through the centuries old gates like nothing, and then proceeded to attack the front line of the army of Rivendell. Elrohir and Elladan had fought to keep the orcs at bay, but it appeared that the original group had gotten reinforcements from somewhere. They just kept coming!

Wave after wave flooded through Imladris's broken gates, falling over each other trying to get to the elves inside. Each wanted a turn at killing an elf, and were killing one another to be the first ones within the haven.

Looking around the chaos through his home, anger filled Elladan, one that he had only felt twice in his entire life; when he and Elrohir had rescued their mother from the orcs, and watching his little brother die in his arms.

Yelling, Elladan fought even more furiously. Hearing the delighted calls of orcs, the eldest son of Elrond then heard cries of the women and children. Quickly killing the orcs he was fighting, Elladan turned and raced for the direction of the cries.

Once he got to the main pathway, the reason for the women's terror was evident. A man was walking between the panic, a magnificent sword held within his grasp, looking majestic and frightening all at the same time.

Women ran across the lane, trying desperately to get out of the way and not incur the wrath of the attacking beings. Freca laughed as he watched the panic, and twirled the sword around in his grasp. This was entirely too easy.

Elladan had had enough. Jumping to block Freca's path, the twin raised his sword in front of him; daring Freca to advance further.

The Mouth of Sauron halted his trek for a moment, just watching the son of Elrond for a time.

"What are you doing, Elladan? Are you going to try and stop me by yourself?" Elladan noticeably jerked as Freca said his name. He was surprised that the evil man could easily identify him from his brother. However, not dwelling, he only tightened his stance.

"You will not enter further, rauko /demon/." His anger showed, and Freca's smile and humor only grew.

"What, you would strike me down, oh powerful elf lord?" he laughed, and then looked back to Elladan, all traces of humor gone. "You only wish, Lord Elladan. You wish."

"You will pay for what you did to my brother and my friend, Freca. Not to mention what you did to us before. You may have escaped trial all those years ago, but that will not happen again. Of that you can be sure." Freca did not respond, but suddenly lunged at Elladan, his sword striking in a downwards movement.

Elladan barely was able to move to the side and parry before Freca was upon him. With quick thrusts and feints, Freca had Elladan backing up considerably.

"Where's the haughty elf lord now, eh?" he laughed, but continued his assault on the twin. Elladan raised his sword to strike, but was forced to move to a defensive position as the ambassador from Mordor's blade moved for his head.

Struggling for the upper hand, Elladan was visibly fighting for control. He wanted to defeat the man for what he had done, but knew that if he made any type of attack, Freca would win the small duel and kill the elf in one, swift stroke.

**:0Ж0:**


	6. The End

**:0Ж0:**

Elrohir parried a blow aimed for his hip, and turned around to decapitate the orc that had attacked him. Going low for the next enemy, the elf quickly ducked as an axe swung from behind. Spinning and cutting at the same time, he drew a dagger to add to the damage of his sword for the orcs kept getting bolder, and was drawing closer and closer to the fighting elf.

Struggling now for space, Elrohir looked around for his brother. He could not see the top of Elladan's raven head anywhere, and he strained his powerful vision to see. _No, where is he? _He thought desperately. If he lost his brother when Elladan needed him...

Hearing a voiced cry of agony, Elrohir quickly cut down his enemies, and then hurriedly looked around for the source. Finally, seeing his older brother locked in combat with the Mouth of Sauron, anger filled the younger one of Elrond's sons.

Freca was attacking Elladan, and from the position he could see them in, Elrohir could guess the man from Mordor was winning. Right now, the blade of his sword was embedded into the right side of Elladan's chest.

"ELLADAN!" Elrohir screamed, worry for his brother overtaking his own need for survival. Moving through the throng of orcs and hill men, the Noldo elf could only concentrate on the despair and need of his brother.

So, when a blow from behind knocked him to the ground, Elrohir was surprised beyond words. Turning over as fast as he could to avoid injury, he was shocked to see the gleeful eyes of a human in full armor. This was the first one he had seen that was dressed in such a way.

Dúnhere sneered over Elrohir, ready to kill the elf where he lay. This one, with the eyes, reminded him too much of that troublesome ranger. Raising his blade, the leader of the hill men prepared to drive the blade into the elf's chest. Nevertheless, Elrohir surprised him by rolling over and then jumping to his feet.

It was apparent to Elrohir that this man had not dealt with elves before. Or, the hill man would realize that elves were more agile than any man, save Aragorn or any of the dúnedain. _Well, _he thought with amusement, _I'll just have to educate him in the way of the elves._

Each smiling at the other, Elrohir and Dúnhere circled, looking for any type of weakness in the other. As far as either one could determine, no weaknesses could be found.

Dúnhere smiled, thinking that he had this fight in the bag. If this one fought anything like the prince, then this shouldn't take too long. Examining Elrohir's stances one more time, he spoke at last.

"You know, you won't be the first elf I kill." Elrohir visibly started, but then his eyes narrowed in suspicion.

"I don't believe you." The son of Elrond commented angrily. He was disturbed to think that this roughian had killed anyone of his race.

Dúnhere smiled, knowing he had the lord's attention. "A blonde elf of Mirkwood, the prince, I think." His grin grew as Elrohir's face fell into a look of confusion and then turned to rage.

The son of Elrond's anger grew as he came face-to-face with the man who had nearly killed Legolas and Estel. Then, a cool, calculated look came to his eyes.

Stopping, he stared the man down. Dúnhere stopped as well, waiting in confusion for the Noldo elf to speak.

"That elf that you think you killed; he is alive and well. So is the ranger you attempted to murder." Dúnhere's eyes narrowed and he clutched his sword just a little tighter.

"How do you know about the ranger?" Elrohir did not respond, but he finally charged the man. Their swords meeting in a loud **_clang_**, the elf kept their blades locked as he looked deep into the mortal's eyes.

"You made a big mistake when you hurt that ranger. A big, irreversible mistake." Dúnhere's look remained one of confusion and then changed to shock as Elrohir displayed his swordsmanship.

The elf was swift, and there was barely any time for the human to bring his own weapon up to parry. Stepping back furiously, the leader of the hill men struggled valiantly against the superb skills of the Noldo elf.

His back finally meeting one of the stone archways, Dúnhere was surprised when Elrohir followed up with a sword through the left side of his chest. His hand clenching and then releasing, the mortal did not even notice as his sword fell to the ground, echoing his demise.

Elrohir looked on to the man, and met his gaze, just holding it. Not twisting the blade or anything, the twin just watched as the life began to leave Dúnhere's body.

"That ranger is my brother, human. For what you helped do to him, this should be what you least deserve." Then, Elrohir closed his eyes, and twisted the blade as fast and as hard as he could.

"May your spirit find rest in the halls of Mandos." He whispered softly in Elvish, his feelings mixed between regret and then satisfaction. He wasn't happy that he had ended a life, but was relieved that he had eliminated a threat against his youngest brother's life.

Removing his sword from the dead man's chest, Elrohir watched as Dúnhere's body dropped to the ground. Watching it for just a few minutes, he was unaware as to the fighting going on around him.

Nevertheless, the reason for his plight was brought forth again as he heard the unmistakable sound of his twin's pain.

Spinning around, Elrohir's quick eyes scanned the ongoing battle for his older brother. Hearing Elladan's painful breaths, Elrohir took off for the direction of his twin, hoping against everything that he would get there in time.

**:0Ж0:**

Elrond raced from the house, the evidence of his guards failure made known to him immediately. Orcs and hill men swarmed through the streets and gates, and the bodies of many elven warriors lined the outskirts of the battle.

Twirling his sword, Elrond entered the fray; the ancient blade **_swishing _**through the air like it had not in years. Taking down many of those in his way, the half-elf could see Elrohir wading through the orcs and hill men, obviously trying to reach **something**. Looking over just a little, Elrond's horrified eyes coming to light upon Freca and Elladan.

Seeing that Elrohir would most likely not make it in time, Elrond raced from his position, his legs carrying him closer and closer to his ailing son.

Elladan, for his part, only stared Freca down as the man glared gleefully at him. The mortal could see the elf's pain, and he was savoring the feeling. He hadn't felt this way in thirty years, truly enjoying the nature of the kill.

Looking into the twin's pain-filled, gray eyes, the Mouth of Sauron slowly began to twist the blade inside Elladan's shoulder. The elf closed his eyes, and fought with Freca, his blood-drenched hands making an effort to stop the sadistic man from injuring him further.

Freca laughed at the endeavor, and only placed a second hand on the elf's chest, manipulating the blade to go even deeper into the muscle tissue. Elladan arched his back, and looked up to the sky, the pain beginning to overtake him.

"Elrohir..." he whispered, his twin the only thing on his mind right now. "'Ro."

Elrond heard his son's pain, and raised his blade behind Freca. Amazingly, the mortal heard the elf's silent footsteps, and yanked his sword from Elladan's chest. Turning, he met Elrond's blade, nearly laughing at loud at seeing the elf lord's surprise.

"I have trained for thirty years, Lord Elrond. You honestly believed I could not sense an **_elf_**?" shoving his blade, he felt Elladan dropping to the ground behind him. Seeing Elrohir charging towards them, Freca forced their blades down, and then using his left fist, connected with Elrond's jaw.

The elven lord stumble, surprised, but fell into Elrohir. The two elves crashed to the stone-laid ground, neither one noticing how Freca took off. Moving around, trying to disentangle themselves from each other, father and son looked over as they heard Elladan's pain-filled gasps.

"'Dan!" Elrohir managed to get away from his father, and then ran to his brother's side. Putting his sword down, Elrohir gently pulled Elladan up into his arms, and just held his injured brother. "'Dan! What all did he do to you?" he whispered painfully, aching to witness Elladan's overwhelming pain.

The older twin looked up to his brother, the concern and fear written plainly in the other's face. Elladan's own worry fell in before anything else, and he grabbed Elrohir's upper arm.

"Where is Estel? Where is he?" he asked. "Is he still with the healers?" his anxiety showed to his brother and father, and the two elves moved closer to their injured family member.

"Yes, Estel is resting in the healers' ward. Why, ion /son?" Elrond's voice didn't comfort his distraught son, and Elladan reached out his other hand for his father.

"Ada! Freca's going after Estel! He wants to kill him! Please, Ada, forget about me for the time being and go after him! Freca wants to kill him!" Elrohir and Elrond met gazes, their thoughts silently being shared.

_I'll go after Estel and you stay here with Elladan. _The message was clear, but Elrohir groaned. "Ada, Elladan needs you or he'll bleed to death. I can take Roth and go after Estel."

Elrond shook his head even before Elrohir finished. "We don't have the time for this, Elrohir! I'm going after your brother and you are staying here!" with that, Elrond leapt up, and still grasping his sword, raced for the healers' ward.

**:0Ж0:**

Aragorn shifted painfully, and gave a groan as his injuries began to act up. Closing his eyes against the onslaught, the ranger settled back into the pillows behind him. Looking around at the frantic healers as they gazed out the window, Aragorn could plainly see what was going on.

Wanting to move, and yet knowing the pain it would cost, Aragorn still attempted to rise from the bed. Holding his breath as he moved, the ranger could still not hold back the hurting as he managed to get to his feet.

Swaying for a time, he shook his head as he attempted to clear it. Taking a few steps forward, he nearly fell over as the pain from his overly-abused legs screamed at him. Grabbing for the bed post at the end of the healers' bed, he dropped his sword with a loud clang.

The healers around him spun around with cries, not used to such loud noises in their part of the house. Glaring at Elrond's youngest son, they were disturbed at seeing him up from his bed.

The girl healer who had helped his father rushed over to him, extending an arm to help steady him.

"Estel, what are you doing up? You know your injuries are severe and you should not be putting pressure on them!" she hissed. Aragorn only smiled at her, and moved towards another bed, still bracing himself without much of her aid.

"I can't just stay here! I don't know what it is, but I know that I'm endangering everyone in here if I stay." The healer only shook her head at him, and then looked down to his bare feet.

"Well, at least let me get you your boots. You just can't go prancing around these cold floors in your condition; being mortal and all." Aragorn only rolled his eyes, but let himself be put next to the wall as she moved to where Elrond had put the ranger's soiled and dirty boots.

Bending over to retrieve the discarded footwear, the young healer was surprised as she heard the frantic calls of the elven soldiers outside the healers' ward balcony. Standing, she moved towards the window, wanting to peer out of the archway.

Unfortunately, for her, that was the dumbest mistake she'd ever made. Leaping up from the trees, a sword was driven through her stomach as its owner landed fully on the tiles of the veranda.

Landing heavily on her back, the elven lady was unaware as her fellow healers began to scream and run about the room in a panic. She also did not realize that the man who had stabbed her was after her lord's son.

Aragorn spun around quickly as he heard the healers' cries, and he was in time to see the nice female healer collapsing to the ground. Towering over her, though, was the frightening form of the Mouth of Sauron.

Forgetting about his injuries for the time being, Aragorn dropped into a defensive stance, ready to fight Freca with all the strength he possessed. Watching the evil man violently pull his blade from the abdomen of the elven woman, anger again rose in Aragorn's throat.

Taking a few steps closer to his quarry, the chieftain of the dúnedain readied himself for any attacks that would come from this man. Aragorn knew that Freca was stronger than him, but he also realized that he had more of a reason for wanting to kill this man.

Freca, for his part, only looked on the unconscious woman with disdain, not caring too much that he may have just ended an immortal life. Well, no, he didn't care at all.

Walking forward with a slight swagger, he looked back at the motionless body as he spoke. "Now, doesn't that remind you of anything, dear Estel?" he asked with laughter, fueling Aragorn's anger. "I remember something quiet like that, oh, about thirty years ago? Don't you?" the dúnadan's arms were shaking with his rage, but he tried to temper down his emotions.

"Your petty words will not get to me, filth. No matter what you throw at me, I will always be one step ahead." Freca laughed at the irony, but stopped for a moment. He cocked his head to the side, and just stared at the furious ranger for a time.

"You know, Estel, you never fail to amuse me. Even after all these years, you still find a way to make me laugh." Aragorn didn't respond, but only began to take small steps forward. Freca saw, but didn't comment on his attempts. Instead, he just kept looking at the ranger.

"I know that Legolas is alive, Aragorn. And, since the elf prince isn't here, I'm assuming that you left him with the rangers who rescued you two. But, he can't stay there forever, can he? Is that second-in-command of yours bringing him, or is Legolas alright?" his sneering questions stimulated Aragorn's fury even more, and he almost made a slip-up.

Moving more quickly than what his body was ready for, Aragorn almost slipped on the cool floor, nearly crashing into Freca. His 'attack' failing, the man tried for a follow-up blow, but the Mouth of Sauron easily batted him away.

Using his powerful arms, Freca shoved Aragorn to the ground, and stood over him. Placing his sword on the ranger's jugular vein on the side of his neck, the man from Mordor allowed his humor to fade until the smile leaked off his face. Just looking down at the man at his feet, he felt such victory, such relief. Soon, the heir of Isildur would be dead, and he would have an elven ring of power in his possession.

Aragorn looked up to the Mouth of Sauron, the pain of his injuries overwhelming. Seeing the other man through pain-glazed eyes, the ranger struggled to get away from Freca.

"No..." he whispered faintly, trying to scoot from underneath Freca's sword. "You cannot do this." Freca laughed.

"Cannot do what, kill you? There's no rule written somewhere that says, 'No man shall kill Aragorn.'" His eyes hardened. "You aren't above everyone else, Aragorn." He then moved backwards with the ranger, keeping his sword leveled with the other's neck. "You'll die one day, one way or the other. For some of us, it's better sooner than later."

Aragorn just stared at the demented man, his disbelief showing through his pain. "You really are insane." Freca just laughed, and kept moving forward.

Finally, Aragorn's back met the wall, his escape halted abruptly. Looking around wildly for any type of escape route, his eyes met with those of the woman healer.

She was still alive! Seeing her eyes flicking towards Aragorn's sword and then Freca, he gave her the okay with his own eyes. She painfully began to climb from the ground, her left arm tightly clasping her bleeding abdomen. Being as quiet as she could, she crept towards the discarded sword.

Moving his eyes back to Freca and looking as if he'd given up, Aragorn couldn't help but shiver as he saw the raw hatred in the blue depths. What had he ever done to this man to cause such disdain?

Not questioning now, he searched through his mind for any subject in which to change the conversation.

Nothing really coming to mind, he yelled the first thing that came to his mind. "Where's my father and brothers? What did you do to them?" Freca paused in his advance, and took a moment to gloat over his 'accomplishments'. Putting his hand to his chin, he smiled as his sword drooped a little.

Out of the corner of his eye, Aragorn saw the female healer pick up the sword, and begin to move towards Freca. Lifting the sword high above her head, the healer stabbed down with the blade towards the evil lord's back. She was surprised, though, when Freca spun around, his blade parrying hers.

Her eyes wide in amazement, she could only stand there as he pushed down her borrowed sword. Grinning evilly, he moved his blade, and went to stab her again in the abdomen.

From behind, Aragorn sprang to his feet, adrenaline feeding him all the energy he needed. Barreling into Freca, the two men went sprawling on the floor past the girl healer, both swords flying high through the air.

Landing, Aragorn's consciousness swam as his injuries ached like nothing he had experienced before. Next to him, a furious Freca moved to his elbows and immediately pounced on the ranger. Putting his hands around Aragorn's throat, the man from Mordor began to squeeze as hard as he could.

Gagging, Aragorn fought with the man, trying with all he had to dislodge the man from cutting off his air. Grabbing Freca's wrists, Aragorn tried to push, pull, to try anything to get the other man off!

Feeling his lungs begin to burn, Aragorn's struggles started to lessen, much to his alarm. He could amazingly see the blackness creeping into his vision, and he was disappointed that he had lost. Losing consciousness, the mortal's arms dropped from his lose of focus.

"NO!" with a cry, something crashed over the back of Freca's head, throwing him roughly off Aragorn, and sending him tumbling to the floor. Holding the back of his head in pain and anger, the Mouth of Sauron attempted to rise.

Coughing hard for several seconds, it was enough to keep the ranger from losing consciousness. Moving over onto his side, he watched as Freca regained his senses and dove for the female healer's unsteady legs. The two went down in a pile of tangled arms and legs, and Aragorn could hear the elf's pained cries as the evil man attacked her.

Getting up and nearly falling over, Aragorn recouped his balance, and then staggered over to keep Freca from killing the poor female. Grabbing the other man underneath the arms, Aragorn back-pedaled with all the strength left in his legs, trying hard to get the man off the wounded female.

Freca jumped back against the ranger, and again the two males fell to the floor. However, this time, Aragorn was pinned under Freca's bulk of a body. Shifting wildly, trying as hard as he could to get free, Aragorn gave a small groan of frustration and pain as Freca continued to keep him on the ground.

Growing angry with all the distractions that were keeping him from killing the ranger, Freca pulled from his belt the same knife he had used on Aragorn before.

"Remember this?" he asked, his grin growing once more. Aragorn's eyes widened, and his mind vividly recalled just what that knife did.

"Freca, no..." the man from Mordor ignored him, and positioned the blade over the left side of Aragorn's chest, the tip just barely entering the skin.

Arching already against the pain, for Freca was sitting on his older wound, the ranger still tried to struggle away from the other man.

Freca didn't mind any of this, and just continued to drive the knife deeper and deeper into Aragorn's chest cavity, until at last, the whole weapon was embedded into the ranger's body.

Crying out in pain as Freca gave one last push, Aragorn's eyes glazed over as the overwhelming pain threatened to overcome him.

"No..." Suddenly, the doors to the ward flew open, revealing one enraged elven lord.

Elrond stood before them, his quick eyes taking in the sight of Freca's dagger within his youngest son's body. Tightening his grasp on his sword, he advanced quickly, until his sword was leveled underneath Freca's chin.

"You had better get off him or I will take off your head right here." He threatened in a grave voice. Freca barely glanced to the elven lord's weapon, and then his eyes drifted up to meet Elrond's. Not saying anything, all he did was slowly move the knife in Aragorn's chest, causing the man to cry out in agony.

Elrond's eyes widened as he realized that Freca was using his son against him. Stepping back unnoticeably, he just looked the man in the eyes for a second. Seeing total evil within their depths, he shivered deep inside.

Freca smiled as he saw the coldness run through the elven lord, and he barely looked down to Aragorn as he began to rise. Yanking the dagger out as he went, the ranger gave an agonized cry as the blade left his body, tearing through even more muscle than before. Wheezing with the pain, Aragorn half-way rolled to his side.

Freca laughed, and calmly wiped away the blood, but stood close enough to the ranger as a threat to his father so Elrond would still know that he was in striking distance of the ranger if he tried anything.

Elrond only glared at the man, not ready to place his youngest son in any more danger than Estel already was. Backing away even more, the elven lord couldn't stand looking at Freca any longer, so, instead, he looked to his son.

"Estel..." Freca moved just a little, and stomped his foot down hard over the ranger's throat. Smiling, he could only watch as Elrond fought with himself not to attack the man. Aragorn could only gasp as his airway was again constricted and Freca continued his torture of the older man.

Finally, seeing that Aragorn was about to pass out from air loss, Freca got bored and gave one last push with his foot before stopping and then kicking the dúnadan over onto his back.

Aragorn kept on coughing and wheezing, his lungs desperately trying to regulate his breathing and keep from passing out. Elrond watched his son's struggles, and could take it no longer.

Raising his sword, the ancient elven lord challenged the Mouth of Sauron.

Freca laughed, and only twirled the slight dagger between his fingers. He walked around Aragorn in a tight circle, and then with a startling viciousness, lunged for the lord of Rivendell.

Elrond almost didn't move, his Elven reflexes nearly too slow. Bringing up his sword in a supposed attack, the half-elf was surprised when Freca all of a sudden performed a high kick, knocking the weapon from Elrond's grasp rather easily.

Looking after his fallen blade in disbelief, Elrond quickly brought up his wrists in a cross as Freca stabbed downwards with the small blade. The dagger catching the thick material of his robes, Elrond thrust his wrists out, throwing the Mouth of Sauron further away.

Freca regrouped, and studied the elven lord for many seconds, then smiling, plunged the dagger down, towards Elrond's hip. Twisting away, the son of Eärendil backed further than before.

"You will claim neither my son's life, nor my own. You will perish before you exit the gates of this haven, fiend." Elrond swore as he dodged once more. For the first time, Freca did not respond to the elf's taunts. Moving forward, he struck towards Elrond one more time.

**:0Ж0:**

Rothinzil fought his way down the wall as he heard Elrohir and Elrond's debate. Finally realizing that the lord of Rivendell was going to confront Freca, the Mirkwood warrior gave up on getting _**through** _the orc/hill men hoard and instead proceeded to jump **_over_** the enemy.

Landing on the stoned-ground, he immediately raced for the entrance to the Last Homely House, breezing past the opposition. Going into the house, Rothinzil ran as fast as his legs could carry him. Assuming that Elrond would face Freca in the healers' ward, the Noldo elf headed in that direction and ran around the corners at top speed.

Reaching the doorway, he stopped just outside as he heard a stifled exclamation of pain. Plastering himself against the wall, Roth leaned in to listen.

"You are done for, Lord Elrond. Now, give me the ring of power!" Rothinzil froze as he recognized the voice he had last heard in his nightmares. Shuddering with long-suppressed fright and anger, the Mirkwood warrior closed his eyes and clenched his fists.

"This ends now." Freca's chilling voice rang through the corridor, causing an icy fist to squeeze his heart.

'_He did it. He killed..._' Taking a deep breath, Roth tightened his grasp on his sword, took a deep breath, and as calmly as he could, walked into the room.

"I never heard anything truer in my life." Freca looked up abruptly, startled as seeing this new elf entering. Soon, though, his bewilderment turned to amusement as he recognized the dark haired elf in front of him.

"Roth? Boy, it's been a while. How's your head?" his laugh echoed around the two elves and the injured human, causing all three to shudder. Rothinzil's hands spasmodically tightened and then released around the handle, but he stood his ground.

"Freca, for what you've done, you deserve to die a thousand deaths, each more horrible than the first. The crimes you have committed are nothing short of unspeakable, and you will not be welcomed anywhere again." Roth's barely controlled voice amused the Mouth of Sauron more and he stepped away from the lord on the ground.

Elrond moaned as he grasped his hip, the dagger still embedded within his skin.

Rothinzil didn't glance to either the lord or his son, but he did inquire as to their conditions. "Estel, Lord Elrond? How badly are you injured?" Aragorn didn't respond, too weak to do anything but breathe. Elrond didn't answer either, but he did groan a little less.

Moving into a stance, Rothinzil put his full attention onto the evil man from Mordor. "You will pay for murdering my best friend, filth." Freca slowly knelt and picked up his own sword, and merely sneered.

"What ever you say, whelp. I beat you easily before, it will be just as easy now." Roth didn't answer with words, but started the duel with a lunge for Freca's heart. The Mouth of Sauron parried, and the fight went on.

The two fought with the same strengths, their abilities evenly matched. Neither one could gain an advantage; no matter how hard they tried.

The fight went on for a while, each one trying to kill the other. Roth finally made a mistake, and Freca took the development for granted. Slamming his elbow into Rothinzil's face, the elf spun around to land on his back.

Looking up to Freca, the elf was a little dazed. Watching Freca walking around him, gloating the whole way, Rothinzil could do nothing to get up as the Mouth of Sauron's weapon pinned him to the floor.

Smiling in supposed victory, the mortal looked down on his opponent.

"Oh, my, isn't this familiar? I seem to remember a scene very close to this happening around thirty years ago. Do you?" laughing, the man failed to see the anger boiling in the elf's hazel eyes.

"But, it was colder then, and the water looked just marvelous in the moonlight. Do you agree?" Freca's jokes only served to fuel Rothinzil's anger, and the elf slowly brought up his sword.

Freca's smile dropped as he stopped and stared down at Roth. "I hope your friend welcomes you to the Halls of Mandos!" lunging forward with a cry, Freca was unprepared as Rothinzil's sword ended up embedded within his chest.

Stepping back with a small choke, Freca was shocked as blood bubbled up through his throat and out his mouth. Dropping his sword and staggering back, the Mouth of Sauron grabbed his injury and swayed.

The sword still within the other's chest, Rothinzil slowly rose and made Freca to kneel. Steel was locked in his hazel gaze, and no shame was evident as the elf gave one last jerk to the sword.

"I hope you apologize to my friend if you see him. Remember that this is for him." With those last words ever heard by Freca, the Mouth of Sauron died.

**:0Ж0:**

"Open the gates!" the call came from the top of the wall, and the elves struggled to open the massive doors. In the week since the orc and hill men attack, the elves had been busy rebuilding, caring for the injured, and burying the dead. Now, the elves of Imladris were welcoming the Mirkwood prince back.

Elrond, Elladan, and Elrohir moved to greet the small ranger caravan, hoping to see Legolas awake and on a horse. But, as the men on horseback entered, the three immortals could see Halbarad riding at the front alone.

"Mae govannen /well met, Halbarad of the Dúnedain. May the grace of the Valar always be with you and your own." Elrond spoke softly as Aragorn's second-in-command dismounted. Walking forward as his men also climbed down, Halbarad bowed to the elven lord.

"Hannon le /thank you, Lord Elrond, for welcoming us so soon after the attack." Looking around at the rebuilding, he shuddered, but then turned to lead the three elves to the only wagon in the caravan.

"Prince Legolas has yet to awaken. Our healers have done everything they could for him, but I'm afraid only the magic of the elves may save him now." Elrond and his twin sons shared a look, but then they peered into the covered wagon.

Giving a slight gasp as their eyes landed on the motionless form of Legolas, Elrond looked sorrowfully to Halbarad.

"Follow me, Halbarad. I will lead you to the healers' ward. Help my sons to carry the prince inside."

**:0Ж0:**

Aragorn stared up at the ceiling, completely bored out of his mind. He knew that Legolas and the rangers would be arriving soon, but he was not allowed out of bed.

He was restricted to the healers' ward, to this particular bed. That **_really _**bothered him. But, also, his brothers almost refused to see him! He had no idea what he'd done this time, but Elladan and Elrohir were "too busy" to come and see their injured little brother.

Sighing, he lay back against his pillows, and waited anxiously for the elves and rangers to come to the ward.

Oh, Valar, how he hoped that Legolas had awakened...

Hearing footsteps from the hallway, he sat all the way up, and watched the door.

Watching it swing open, he was surprised to see Halbarad, Anders, and his brothers carrying in a stretcher. Sighing in despair, he realized that Legolas was on the contraption.

His father came over, gently pushing him down as Aragorn attempted to get up to see how bad his friend was off now.

"Wait here, Estel, and let me examine him. Do not get up." Elrond then walked over to where the four had set down Legolas and then drew a curtain around the motionless elf. The four then came out, walking over to wait by Aragorn, Anders and Halbarad only giving slight nods in greeting to their chieftain in their worry.

It took several moments, almost half-an-hour, before Elrond exited and came near them. Wiping his hands, he sat on the bed next to his son, and placed a comforting hand on Aragorn's shoulder.

Talking softly, he said, "Ion nín /my son, Legolas has taken extensive damage to his body, and he is not completely healed." Looking intensely to Aragorn, he sighed. "But, you already knew that. Estel," he lowered his eyes. "Legolas has taken extreme force to the head, and it's put him into a deep coma." Raising his head, his sorrowful gray eyes met those of his son.

"One he may never awaken from."

**THE END**


End file.
